


Excerpts from Marshall and Maya: Much More Than Life

by iamsheena



Series: Much More Than Life [2]
Category: August Rush (2007)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:55:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23611915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamsheena/pseuds/iamsheena
Summary: An unexpected favourite pairing of mine for my long fic, "Much More Than Life" within the same fandom, was Marshall Connelly and original character Maya Zevallos. After (and before) I finished the main story, I wrote several different pieces of story featuring the couple or Marshall on his own, or even their son, Mateo. I've decided to post all that I found saved on my computer as I don't see a full story ever being created. I just liked their relationship and wanted to explore their characters and family in more detail. Some turned out really well while others not so much... and others end mid-sentence. While I don't expect much attention from this work, those who also grew to love Marshall and Maya may find the same enjoyment I did.
Series: Much More Than Life [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699759
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. After Death

**A/N: There was a writing prompt a while ago that I used to write this particular short story. I'm starting off with this one because I like it particularly well. None of these chapters will have been edited much so while I can see improvement that needs to be made, because these aren't 'official', they won't be edited.**

* * *

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Marshall heard before he felt a hard thud on the back of his head.

“Nice to see you too,” he grinned, though the twinge he felt in his chest was a far cry from happiness.

“What were you thinking?!” She huffed, her face red. “I’m getting so sick of these run-ins. You’re a complete idiot.” Taking a deep breath, she paused and took a good look at her love. His grin had faded away and only dejection remained. Her anger dissipated instantly as she knelt in front of him and rested her hands on his knees.

He wanted to cry but the tears had come so strong for that first month that there was nothing left to fall. Instead, he stared at her honeyed hands, perfectly manicured with a turquoise polish. She had always liked those greeny-blues and bright yellows, further evidenced by the dress she was wearing – the favourite of anyone who knew her. It showcased her personality: loud and sexy.

“Why are you doing this again, Marshall?”

He couldn’t meet her eyes. He felt ashamed and rightfully so. Marshall had promised he would stop being so reckless the last time they met. But he needed to see her. Looking around the room they were in, he was brought back to before they were in love and sharing the space, working to create a good life for their son despite him being an unexpected, though welcome, mistake. Had it always been such a small place? He was sitting on the ridiculous futon while the familiar loud sound of the fan whirred noisily from the bathroom.

When Mateo had been born, he cried endlessly, and they just about lost their minds until they discovered that sitting on the floor in the bathroom with the fan running and some music playing drowned him out completely. It was a welcome reprieve, even if it was just temporary.

The kitchen seemed hardly large enough to feed one person, let alone three. How had they managed before moving?

Why was this the place that they kept coming to?

“Marshall.” Maya’s voice was soft, cooing. It was how she spoke to Matty and the twins before she died. It was never how she spoke to Marshall. She removed her hands carefully from his knees and to either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“I—” Marshall started before realizing he didn’t really know what he wanted to say.

The first time they had met like this – after she had died and before Marshall realized what it all meant – it was not his fault. He was taking his laundry to the laundromat, his sister-in-law watching the boys, when he was attacked and stabbed by some drug-crazed criminal and rushed to the hospital. In his delirium, he saw her waiting for him, giving him the strength to make it through – for their sons. It was a dream, but one of the nicest he had had in a long time. It was the first dream about her that hadn’t been filled with horror and regret.

The second time they met, they were able to speak. Maya called him an idiot despite this instance also not being his fault. Well, not intentional anyway. During a day of overwhelming sorrow that he thought had passed, he had consumed so much alcohol that he ended up remembering nothing but waking up in the hospital with a large goose egg on his head. She had berated him and called him every foul name that she would have called him if she were alive and angry, plus some new ones that Marshall had never heard before, then made him promise he would be more careful and ‘grow up’.

He could remember promising in his dream, but then he wondered if she would come each time. And she did. Two more times, he found himself gravely injured – those times, intentionally – and two more times, he found Maya waiting for him, ready to curse him out and screech about his easy grin despite her anger. He promised her each time and broke her promise each time.

“You promised me,” Maya repeated for the third time. “How can you do this to our sons?”

Marshall shook his head and waved her off, “they have my brother and—”

“They need you.” She rose from her knees and sat next to him. “Mateo can’t handle losing you too. And the twins won’t know me if you’re not there to tell them. If you leave, you’re going to let them forget me.”

“I can’t,” Marshall managed. “How can I do it all alone?”

“You’re not alone. You know that.” Maya paused and bit her lip. “But you will be.”

The change in her tone made him take notice. She had his full attention.

“If you put yourself in danger again, I’m not going to be there to help you. I love you. But I won’t be there.”

“If you’re not there, then—”

“You’ll die. Yes.”

“And you’d let me just die? Leave Matty and Luke and Tom?”

This made her angry again, evident by her deliberately steadied breathing. “It’s your choices bringing you here, you asshole. But yes, I’d let you die and leave our boys orphans. And you’ll be alone. Because I’m not going to be here waiting for you. It’ll be eternity and you. That’s it.”

“So, I die and I’m alone? Even when I’m an old man, you’re just going to abandon me.”

She shook her head slowly, “I’m not abandoning you. I’ll still watch over you. If you raise our sons and take care of them like you promised that night I went to the hospital and if you do everything you can to live a long life, I’ll be waiting for you. Even when you’re old a disgusting.”

Marshall snorted from an unexpected laugh.

“I love you, Marshall,” Maya repeated, taking his hand. “And I need you to keep doing everything you can do give our sons a good life. Stop drinking so much and ease off the Rockstar lifestyle. Maybe eat a salad once in a while and go to the gym. When you see me again, I want you to be an old man who can barely remember his own name. Then you’ll come to me looking like you are now, and we’ll be able to be together again. I don’t care how sad you get. If you come back purposely, you’ll never see me again.”

Marshall nodded his head just slightly before rubbing his hand over his face. He drew her into a long kiss and then said, “okay.”

Suddenly, he was in a hospital bed. His throat was dry, and he could feel the feeding tube causing discomfort. But he had been in this situation before and found the button to call a nurse. She arrived promptly and he was able to begin his road to recovery.

He did everything he could to move past Maya’s death, including taking up the therapy that he had forced their eldest son into. He stopped drinking altogether, not wanting to go the route of his father who had succumbed to liver cancer. He didn’t make it to the gym all that much or eat all that healthy, but he was better than he had been.

Then, when the time came that his body and mind could no longer keep up, and when he was spending more time in hospital than out due to strokes and heart problems; when his sons were all grown up and starting families of their own, he knew he’d be able to see Maya again. It was all the reassurance he needed to slip away with his son by his side.

When he woke up, he felt young again. His memories were strong once more, though filled with so many more years, and his body felt spry and healthy. It was as if he never grew old.

And, as promised, Maya was waiting for him in her yellow dress, looking the same as ever. She welcomed him with open arms and brought him with her into the afterlife where they could spend eternity together.


	2. After 'I Love You'

**A/N: You'll find that most of these chapters are not posted chronologically. There are hints in the stories themselves as to where they take place. This is an example of something incomplete.**

* * *

The night had been a bust. With a toddler and school, Maya had a lot less energy than she had only a few years earlier, so she couldn’t pull all-nighters any longer, which drastically shrunk the pool of men she would want to go home with. And those she had attempted to seduce weren’t at all interested her, one even calling her some rude name. It wasn’t even midnight by the time she returned home feeling sad and dejected.

The lights were off despite it still being early for Maya and Marshall’s usual, but she knew that Marshall had been working a lot harder lately, picking up various shifts before they would leave for their overseas tour. Thinking about him being gone for so long made her want to cry and she could feel her eyes threatening to leak the tears that were forming in them.

Carefully manoeuvring her way through the dark living room with a stop at the bathroom to wash off the failed night, she crept to Marshall’s bedroom. On the other side of the door, she could hear the muffled sound of the TV and see the white light beneath his door. Softly, she knocked and waited for an answer. When none came, she quietly turned the doorknob and peaked in. As was usual for him, his arms and legs were spread to take up the whole of the Queen-sized bed while he slept, a steady snore nearly drowning out the late-night talk show that was playing.

Marshall’s naked body was moderately covered by his duvet, but it did nothing to offer modesty. But Maya was no longer in a particularly feisty mood. She just wanted to be next to him.

Taking off her dress with only her undergarments remaining, she made sure the window was open just a crack to keep them cool and then crawled into bed next to him on the left side where there was a little more room. She rested her head on his outstretched arm, letting her own arm lay gently on his rising and falling chest. He smelled of soap, clearly having had a shower before bed. It was a comforting smell that she came to associate with her son’s father.

When Maya felt like she was about to fall asleep, she heard Marshall’s breathing change. The snoring stopped and he began coughing, his throat dry. He sat up and Maya did the same while he took a few sips of the water at the side of his bed.

“Hey,” he said, settling back onto his bed, making more room for Maya. “Why’re you back so early?” He reached for his remote and turned the TV off.

“Not a good night,” she responded miserably.

“You alright?” he asked.

She nodded but didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to start talking about her upsets lest she start crying. Maya was feeling low and knew that she could be set off very easily in the moment.

“You going to sleep here tonight?” he asked with a yawn, already settling back to sleep.

“If that’s okay,” she confirmed quietly.

“Course,” he said, shifting so that he could drape his arm over her waist. “Night.”

She leaned her head towards his chest and kissed whatever part of him she could reach before settling in to sleep herself.

When she woke up, she was cuddled against Marshall, his arms wrapped around her. He usually ran hot so it was rare that they could get through a night in contact with one another’s bodies. But she was starting to like it more and more when they could.

It was too dark outside yet to get up and get dressed, which was fine with her because the only thing occupying her mind was how they had got to this point. They spent more nights in than out, more nights with each other than anyone else, and they had both admitted their love for one another. It was a far cry from her days as a bartender when Marshall and his band were playing in shitty Brooklyn dives.

Neither of them had ever wanted a relationship. In fact, the entire basis of their friendship in the beginning was as wingman/wingwoman for the other. It only happened to evolve when they were both horny, a little drunk, and striking out. Then they could barely wait to get to Marshall’s place before fucking like they had never done before, finding immediate compatibility. 

Maya could admit now that she considered him her best friend over the next couple months. A booty call from one of them and a romp on Marshall’s stupid frat boy futon would usually end in conversation and pizza and beer and hanging out. They got to know each other very well in a variety of ways.

Then when she fell pregnant with Mateo, she gained insurmountable respect for him when he said he would take care of her even though, at the time, neither of them was sure the baby would actually have been Marshall’s. He hadn’t cared and she was relieved because no other guy that she was seeing would have been willing to step up like he did.

The more she thought about it, the more she could see the progression from friend to whatever they were now (they still were not willing to put labels on it). She had loved him in one way as a friend and that love just grew into something new and different.

When they moved into their new place, paid mostly for by Marshall, and were able to give each other more space, they stopped arguing so much (though not completely – never completely). They were able to have their own lives, which just ended up brining them closer together. He was such a good dad to Mateo and a good friend to her, it was only natural that the love and respect grew.

After the hospital fiasco following Marshall’s cancer surgery, they entered into a civil union to give each other rights that they hadn’t had before. His willingness to do that for her despite being adamantly against relationships was something significant to Maya. Then he had gone with her to face her family at her abuela’s funeral regardless of the fact that he’d have to miss work, which he had only ever done when Mateo had been born.

Now, they were here. Ever since she had let an ‘I love you’ slip for the first time, they would say it whenever one of them was leaving the house. Maya had mixed feelings about it all. It felt more serious. Even more than having a kid had. But nothing really changed. They still went out to find someone if they wanted. Neither of them was jealous of this; they didn’t believe that monogamy was a strict human quality. But she still felt awkward saying it. She never had a choice – it climbed up from her heart and rolled out of her mouth and into the air between them so easily that she never had a chance to think about it. It was afterwards that she’d feel something like embarrassment. Marshall seemed unfazed by the utterance of endearment; he hadn’t even been caught as off-guard as she would have expected when she first said it. She wondered if he had his doubts or thought the whole thing strange like she did.

“Why’re you up?”

Marshall’s voice, grizzled with sleep, snapped her out of her racing mind.

“Can’t stop thinking,” she whispered, turning to face him. His eyes were still closed, and she wondered how he knew she was awake. Maya studied the faint wrinkles in his forehead, really the only clue that he was nearly a decade older than her. Otherwise, he looked like he would be in his twenties with her. He was insanely attractive – she thought even more so now that she loved him – with a strong jaw and nose. Nice hair. A naturally muscular body from a lifetime of manual labour. 

At some point in the night, one of them had kicked off his blanket from his bed, leaving Marshall fully exposed. It was another part of him that she loved; they had great sex. She couldn’t remember there ever being a miss with him. She felt more awake, but he still seemed almost fully asleep.

“What’re you thinking about?” he mumbled.

“Too much,” she said simply. Seeing him naked after a chance to forget the depressing – and sexless – night she had before returning home was really doing it for her. She slowly and lightly ran her hand over his chest, playing with the little hairs that covered it.

Maya saw him open an eye to get a look at her and she looked back hungrily.

“C’mere,” he grunted, pulling her closer to him and pressing his lips against hers.

She sighed and sat herself up, running her fingers down his abdomen while her right arm kept her propped up.

“What’re you thinking about?” Marshall repeated, grinning.

“You,” Maya said, climbing on top of him. “And feeling you inside of me.” She kissed his neck and traced her tongue across his collarbone as he groped anything he could grab. “And,” she continued, “feeling you all over me.”

“Get your shit off,” he demanded.

She quickly unclasped her bra and threw it to the floor before sitting back so that she could get her thong off and throw it down with her bra. Marshall pulled her back towards him, kissing her again. “I love you,” he said, pulling back from her for a moment.

Maya smiled and kissed him again. “I love you too,” she replied, her earlier insecurities gone in their moment of passion. “Now fuck me.”

  
When Maya woke again, it was light out and she was alone. She could hear Mateo crying to be let out of his crib and she groaned. After the fun she had with Marshall, she was in desperate need of a shower before any childcare could be given. She was about to call him when a neon yellow sticky note caught her eye. Written in his messy chicken scratch was a note from Marshall: Got called in. Sorry. See you later.

She groaned again and stretched. It looked like a shower would have to wait. She rolled out of Marshall’s bed, pulled on Marshall’s robe and left to care for Marshall’s kid who was screaming bloody murder.

“Hey mijo,” she said, turning on his bedroom light.

“Mama,” he cried tiredly, holding up his arms to be picked up.

Once she was closer to him, she notice red spots on his skin


	3. Long Before Marshall

**A/N: After I finished writing 'Much More Than Life', I still wanted to play with the characters and kept thinking of different stories I could write featuring Marshall and Maya. I toyed with writing a story that was less fan fic and more just fiction and that was Maya's childhood and growth, which is seen below.**

* * *

Fifteen.

I took one final look in the mirror, surveying the curves of my body, eager to show it off and prove that I was far more ‘woman’ than anyone had seen before. My bright pink skirt was just long enough to retain some modesty while by neon yellow tank top was tight, low-cut, and revealing. I had never worn anything like this before but felt empowered. My parents would kill me if they saw me like this – they would say something about God disapproving or how it was a sin or whatever else – and they wouldn’t let me go to my first high school party. Well… I hadn’t exactly told them it was a high school party anyway. But they would question why I would dress like this just to go over to Brittany’s house for a sleepover. So, I decided to wear my plaid pajama bottoms and a modest t-shirt overtop, which I would abandon with my backpack around the corner. I didn’t care much if it got stolen. The stress and the sneaking around and the loss of property would all be worth it if it finally happened tonight.

With everything I needed with me, I took a deep breath and opened my bedroom door. If I got passed my parents, then I wouldn’t have to worry about anything else all night.

“Mama,” I called as I walked to the living room of our small apartment. “I’m going to Brittany’s now.”

“What?” my mom’s voice came, seeming surprised about the news I had definitely already told her. “Since when did I say you could go to Brittany’s?”

“Mama,” I rolled my eyes. “I told you yesterday AND this morning. You don’t listen to me.”

“Mateo,” Mama called back to my father, “did you know about this Brittany?”

As usual, whenever Mama and I would argue, which was often, he replied with a disinterested “hm?” from their bedroom.

“What are you doing over there?” Mama interrogated.

“I told you,” I repeated. She was so frustrating. “I’m going for a sleepover for Brittany’s birthday. I will come back in the morning.”

“Did you finish your homework?”

“Mama,” I complained, “I have the whole weekend to do it. I’ll do it tomorrow. I promise.”

She gave me one of her signature stern looks before sighing and letting her hands fall to her sides.

I grinned excitedly and kissed her on the cheek, “thank you, mama. Love you.” Before she could change her mind, I slipped on my most sensible shoes (my new platforms hidden safely in my backpack) and left.

Once I turned the street corner, I ditched my clothes, changed my shoes, and stuffed my backpack in a bush for hopefully safekeeping. Then I went the opposite direction of Brittany’s house to senior Trent Wells’ house. Even though I had only started as a freshman in September, I had caught his eye; he invited me and my friends to his party that he was throwing in his parent’s absence. I hoped that we might kiss or more. Hopefully more. I had made out with guys before but never really wanted to be in a relationship like most people – it didn’t seem all that fun – but I had never gone further. Not yet. My hope was that it would change tonight.

I arrived at the address and people were spilling out of the house with music playing from inside very loudly. It was exactly as I expected. I went inside, feeling people’s eyes on me as I went. For most people, they would feel self-conscious, but it just made me feel energized.

Inside, I could smell beer and tequila. The air was hazy with different kinds of smokes and the music made it hard to hear anything else. I couldn’t possibly hide my excitement.

It took me awhile to find someone I knew, 


	4. Before Marshall

**A/N: An alternative story to last chapter.**

* * *

The earliest memory I have of myself with Mama is one of those memories that are just faint enough so that you can’t be quite sure if it actually happened or if it was just a dream.

I must have been three or four because I remember my brother demonstrating his new-found talent: walking. The memory starts with a flash of Ed toddling from Papa to Mama, my two parents focused on their youngest, faces beaming with pride and excitement. Next, we are getting ready to go out – the feeling I get is for the zoo, but that’s another fact that I can’t be sure of. I think Papa is already outside by this point, probably having a cigarette before we go. Mama has Ed on her hip, his diaper bag on the opposite shoulder. She takes one last scan of the room, failing to notice me still at the kitchen table where they left me after breakfast, and then leaves. I remember hearing the door lock. I don’t know how much time passed, but the next flash of memory is Mama tearing into the house, crying, and taking me in her arms, apologizing for leaving me behind.

Mama and Papa loved me; I never doubted that. But I was overlooked a lot and that first memory was just the beginning.

I was their first born, but it was Ed who really shone in their eyes. They had wanted to a boy to start with, so he ticked that box for them. Then because I kept getting forgotten, I decided to make it impossible for them to forget me again and, in doing so, became a kernel in their teeth, which just made them favour Ed more.

As we grew up, Ed and I were close. We got into all sorts of trouble but when we were caught – and we were caught most of the time – I was the one who usually got the worst punishment because I was older and ‘supposed to know better.’ But it also happened that I got caught more often. I know now it was just for the attention but I’m not sure I knew it then.

In middle school, I started solely wearing dresses that were bright and a low enough cut to make any adult uncomfortable. I would leave the house with a sweater and tights on to avoid the negative attention of Mama, then I would strip before I got to school, getting a lot attention from the boys in my grade. It was in eighth grade that I got my first boyfriend: an immature and skinny kid named Terrance who always had sex on his mind as he struggled through puberty. I’m a pretty sexually-driven person in general, but even I get embarrassed by the things we did at such a young age. We did everything and everyone knew about it. Cue the reputation of a slut, which I was happy to have because I had become one of the most popular girls in school as a result. At only thirteen, I was branded as easy and made my way through a few boys by the end of the school year.

When I started high school, I had a larger pool and my reputation preceded me.

Ed, meanwhile, was being hailed as some God reincarnate because he was ‘so different from his sister’. He wasn’t all that different, but he hid it a whole lot better.

In my second year of high school, my principal called Mama and Papa in to discuss my behaviour.

“Maya is failing every core subject,” Principal Stone told my parents whose faces betrayed nothing but whose eyes were engulfed in flames of anger set to come my way. “Her records from her last school show a steady decline in grades and, at this rate, I don’t think she will graduate with her peers.”

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Papa had demanded. I had simply shrugged, which I could see just made him angrier.

“Maya’s teachers have reported the same behaviour in all of her classes – even Art, Home Ec, and Phys Ed, which are the only subjects she is successful in and which show that she can excel if she puts her mind to do so. I’m being told that she is acting quite provocatively towards boys in the class and flirting, which is not just distracting her, but is also distracting those around her.”

“The boys act that way too,” I said because it was the truth. If they just ignored me – and some did – I would get angry and lash out, but then I’d ignore them from then on because there were plenty of others who weren’t ignoring me.

The principal had been prepared for some sort of claim like that. “If you look at a student like Jared Diaz, who is the top of his class, the only one he is struggling in this year is Math, which just happens to be the only class you are also in, Maya. And it’s strange that Math would be an area of struggle for him when he was so strong in it last year. He’s just one example. You are not only affecting your own education, but also the education of your peers and it needs to stop. Now.”

At home, my parents yelled at me with the full force of the attention I had missed for the first sixteen years of my life.

“What in God is the matter with you?” Mama shouted. “What would He say about your behaviour?”

I thought it best not to answer that.

“It is my fault,” Mama claimed. “We don’t bring you and Eduardo to church enough. That is going to change.”

At least Ed would have to suffer with me. As he should. I had to bite my lip as she chastised my promiscuity while Ed was going through girlfriends just as fast as I was going through boyfriends at his age.

“We are going through your closet,” Mama decided.

“What?”

“We are getting rid of whore clothes and making you more presentable. You are going to do better in school, and you are going to leave the boys alone.”

“You’re not touching my clothes!” I cried, following her into my small room with its overloaded closet. I loved my clothes. They were my way to express myself and were probably my healthiest outlet at the time. We were never well-off enough to get into designer brands or anything, but I could always find the hidden gems at the thrift store and would often take things apart to make something new and perfect for me. I was going to fight to the end to protect my works of art.

Mama took a big black garbage bag to my dresser and started rifling through my belongings, throwing whatever she deemed unworthy into the bag.

“What am I going to wear?” I asked through tears after she slapped my hand away with a little too much force.

“You will wear what I tell you to wear. Go to the kitchen.”

“No!” I tore the bag from her hands and promptly dumped its contents out on my floor, purposely tearing the bag in the process.

“Out now!” Mama shouted at me before calling Papa. “Mateo! Take Maya away from here.”

Papa appeared a short while later. He was much quieter than Mama, so it was always a lot more threatening when he became loud and angry. Ed and I would always avoid it at all costs. All he needed to do was stand in my doorway and say, “Maya,” for me to follow him into the living room. He sat me down at the kitchen table next to the pile of long-overdue homework that was sent home for me to complete and catch up with. Then he returned to the recliner in front of the TV and continued watching some game show. Instead of doing my homework, I folded my head into my arms and cried at the kitchen table. When his show was over, he came over to me and demanded: “stop crying.” The tone used suggested he did not want to ask twice. I couldn’t stop at an instant, but I looked up at him. “You are sitting at this table until that stack of homework is complete to my standards. I don’t care if it takes you all night or all weekend. You are going to be a good student, not a whore.” He meant every word he said because even trips to the bathroom were questioned and monitored and timed. If I didn’t understand the work, which was most of the time, he would shove a textbook at me and say “maybe you should pay attention in school.”

Mama taking my clothes and Papa demanding I do work I didn’t understand without any help just fuelled the rage I had towards them and did nothing to change my behaviour. It then happened that shortly after my seventeenth birthday in my Junior year, I was expelled.

Long story short, I had been caught having sex with a Senior in the girl’s bathroom down in the science wing. It should be noted that the boy I was having sex with was only suspended. I guess he had better behaviour and did better in school but, at the time, I was having none of it and was telling any friend who would listen about how the school was out to get me and how the teachers and principal were sexist.

I decided to drop out of my new school. No matter how much Mama would nag or Papa would demand I go, there was nothing they could legally do. I didn’t want to go to school because I just kept getting in trouble. I had all the attention I had worked so hard to get and didn’t want any part of it anymore.

It was a blessing in disguise for both me and my parents.

Not being at school meant that I was not with as many guys as before – it was a miracle I hadn’t fallen pregnant in my teenage years. And I calmed down a little towards my parents. Being at home meant that I had to get a job because my parents decided they would no longer fund anything other than basic necessities, so I had something to focus my energy on.

I found myself working at a series of jobs, starting with a coffee shop until I turned eighteen, after which I looked for work in adult stores since I was still too young to work somewhere like a bar, which seemed very appealing to me at the time.

A few months after my eighteenth birthday, I found employment at a sex shop and it was eye-opening.

One night, about four months after I had started working in the shop, a woman named Tamara entered the shop, seeming to ooze confidence as she browsed the collection of dildos and vibrators, buying a surprising number of each. Noticing my interest as I scanned the toys, she asked me, “how old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“You’re really beautiful.”

I was taken aback and tried to remember if I had ever been called ‘beautiful’ before. ‘Hot’, yes, but ‘beautiful’ had always seemed far too classy for someone like me. “Uh, thanks.”

“What made you want to work here?”

I shrugged, “I... like sex and thought I would like to work somewhere where I don’t get in trouble for it.”

She then asked me if I had ever thought about 


	5. Before America

**A/N: I began posting this as a story on its own but lost interest as I do with most writing... But this is actually of Marshall and Louis' life back in Ireland. I find that when details I think of don't line up with details I've already written in the first fic, I let it get in the way of finishing it. In this case, it was details of their father not lining up with what had already been written.**

* * *

_I couldn't sleep at all last night_  
 _‘Cause I had so much on my mind._  
 _I'd like to leave it all behind,_  
 _But you know it's not that easy._  
“Consequence Free” by Great Big Sea

A strip of light crept under the door of Marshall and Louis’ Connelly’s bedroom door, inexplicably waking the former while the latter remained fast asleep. Marshall looked at the alarm clock on their shared bedside table – each of their sides complete opposites in organization – and saw that it was far too early for anyone to be awake. But it wasn’t completely unheard of for their father to experience insomnia, so there was nothing all that unusual.

Figuring he was up anyway and could use a trip to the toilet, Marshall rolled unceremoniously out of bed and trudged towards the bathroom, expecting to see his father drunk on the couch or rummaging around in the fridge. He saw neither of these things.

When he re-emerged from the bathroom, he was about to turn off all of the lights when something started to feel off. First of all, his da’s bedroom door was open, which it never was, and his father wasn’t inside. John Connelly wasn’t exactly reliable or one to follow routines, so him leaving the house at strange hours wasn’t so bizarre. Marshall noticed, though, on his father’s unusually organized bed, a piece of lined paper with messy scrawl lay waiting for him.

Marshall + Louis,

I’m sorry to do this to yous but I can’t take it no more. I held out long as I could – Marshall, your grown up now.

I won’t be round no more so yous got to take of each other. Marshall go to school and make your brother go to.

I left some money for food in the kitchen and the rent is paid for the next 2 months (you need to pay again end of April).

Bye

\-- Da

Marshall felt a cold disbelief and confusion wash over him, followed closely by fear and then rage. He felt one emotion, then the other, over and over again, taking everything he had in him to avoid cursing and shouting to the air and waking his brother up. He wouldn’t tell Louie yet. At least, not until he was sure he couldn’t fix this. Whatever ‘this’ was. With great restraint, he stormed to the kitchen where there was an envelope of roughly two-hundred pounds at a quick glance. 

He had never needed to be responsible before. Going to school became a rarity since turning eighteen (and his track record wasn’t so great before then). Instead, he’d dick around the house or meet his equally-truant friends out around the River Lee to cause trouble or drink or smoke, entirely wasting his potential and knowing full well that he was doing so. His brother would get on his case sometimes when Marshall started acting more like his friends than himself. Then they’d argue and fight. Then they’d be friendly again. 

The only responsibility Marshall had ever taken on was watching out for Louis. He’d keep doing that, but he’d have to figure out a whole lot more on top of that.

Marshall went to the sofa with a seldom used school notebook of his and a pencil, needing to visually organize his thoughts and priorities if his da didn’t come back. He wrote:

① Rent? Heating/electric included?  
② Food budget for 2 people?  
③ Jobs?: pubs, docks, warehouses? Pay? – sell da’s shit  
④ KEEP LOU ON TOP OF SCHOOL!!!  
⑤ finish exams + school

He re-read his list and figured it seemed to have the most important bits on it. At least working would keep him out of trouble. Marshall knew where the path he was on now lead, but it was about to change. Hopefully for the better. He’d need to work a lot to keep them afloat. Who would pay a kid like Marshall, son of a known drunk, a wage good enough? He knew he’d probably need a couple of gigs.

Marshall spent the next hour going through the drawer where they kept every bit of rubbish, including bills. Hopefully, he’d be able to find some sort of record of payments his father made regularly. He knew that he paid the landlord in cash and received a receipt – Marshall had dropped the money off at his father’s request a couple of times – but he had never checked the amount. Luckily, he found a few of the receipts squirreled away in the corner of the drawer, held together by a rubber band. They read £300 in chicken scratch. He found separate bills for water, heating, and electric, all of which, including rent, added up to roughly £500. He amended his list:

① Rent? Heating/electric included? = £500

He continued rifling through the drawer to see if he could get any receipts for food, but there wasn’t enough to go on. He made a mock list for a week’s worth of food, keeping his mother in mind to try and keep them somewhat healthy, and would go down to the shops to check prices so he could get a better idea.

Marshall stared at his third point. What if he couldn’t get a job? They didn’t even have enough for that first rent payment at the end of April. And did his da mean that the utilities were paid until then too? He then remembered the phone and cable, adding to his list. They could do without the cable, but he’d need a phone if he wanted to find any luck with a job. And what was he really qualified to do? He didn’t have the first clue about getting a job. They would have gone over it in school, but he probably wasn’t in for that. Or paying attention. Although Marshall was never one to panic, he could feel something like panic rising up in him. It would be one thing if it was just him, but it wasn’t. It was Louie too.

He suddenly decided that his da couldn’t be gone. John Connelly would be somewhere in Cork getting drunk in some pub. And if he wasn’t, someone would know where he had gone. Marshall could get him back and knock some sense into him. A man doesn’t just abandon his family. Not when they’ve already lost their mother. That wasn’t what happened. Marshall would get to the bottom of it.

As quietly as he could, he snuck into his and Louis’ bedroom for a change of clothes and his wallet. Then he showered and dressed, eating plain toast for breakfast, before heading out for the day.

His mind continuously flipped back and forth between accepting that he had to take care of things and believing that his father would be back. Since the pubs wouldn’t start opening for a few hours, he had to take on the former role. As planned, he explored the shops, creating a budget in his notebook of how much food cost for two people per week and per month. Then he made his way to the docks and industrial areas, inquiring about work and applying where possible. He had a knack for conversing easily with people and appearing likeable without much effort – at least when it came to men working in warehouses and on docks – so he made several good impressions and hoped something would come of it. Getting in at the docks would mean a good salary or, at the warehouses, a good wage. And he’d take any extra hours that he could.

When the pubs opened, he set up on his quest for his father (and a job, reality becoming clearer the longer he searched). He started off near their home, visiting the pubs that his father frequented along with those that, to his knowledge, he had never been in.

In one pub down the corner from their home, in which John Connelly was known by name, the owner, Sean, expressed condolences and offered Marshall a space Wednesday nights to play music for £50 if he and his brother were any good. They’d ‘audition’ tomorrow night, Marshall assuring him that he wouldn’t be disappointed. Neither Louis nor Marshall had ever played for an audience before, and Marshall seriously doubted they were as good as he said they were, but they’d rise to the occasion because they’d have to.

In the town centre, Marshall ran into some of his father’s buddies, none of whom knew anything about John skipping town and were surprised to hear of his disappearance. Marshall continued his string of no information, visiting every pub in the town centre, and every shop that he could apply in – he would take any manual labour he could find.

It wasn’t until school would be let out soon that Marshall made his way home, his feet aching, his mind weary, and his eyes heavy. Other than the pity gig on Wednesdays, there wasn’t any other news on the job front. He had hoped that when he got home, there would be something on the answering machine, but he was disappointed. 

He lay down on the couch and turned the TV on, waiting for Louis to return home so he could break the news to him. Marshall was now sure that his father was gone – he had made sure to leave without uttering a word to anyone.

Having dozed off, Marshall was rudely woken up by Louis letting the front door slam.

“Why d’you do that?” Marshall grunted, having been woken up this way more than once.

“To get you up,” Louis replied, dropping his school bag to the side of the armchair before slumping down in it. “I thought you’d be at school today when you weren’t home this mornin’.”

Marshall sat himself up, desperately feeling like going back to sleep. “Nah, I had shit to do.”

Louis scoffed, “what? Gettin’ pissed and vandalisin’ people’s property?”

“No,” Marshall said simply, thinking about the best way to tell Louis how much their lives were going to change.

Unacquainted with such a simple response from his brother, he prodded. “What’s wrong, Marshall?”

Marshall sighed, “listen, Louie.”

When Marshall didn’t continue, Louis started to get irritated. “What is it?”

After another impossibly long pause, Marshall said, “Da’s gone.”

“What d’you mean? Gone where?”

Reaching into his pocket, Marshall pulled out the folded note, which had evidently been crumpled and nearly ripped first. He passed it to Louis. “I mean, he’s left.”

Louis took the note and read it over quickly more than once. “I don’t—where’d he go?”

“Fuck if I know, Lou!” Marshall responded, a little too brashly. “I went all over town today tryin’ to find the useless cunt and no one knows anythin’. Even the boys he’s usually out with seem completely lost. Da’s gone. I don’t know where. I don’t know if he’s comin’ back. He’s gone and we’ve got to get on without him.”

“Marshall—”

“Louie, it’s just gotta be us. We’re gonna get by, but it’s just gonna be you and me. I’m goin’ to get to work—I applied to a shit tonne of places today and I’ll go back tomorrow—and you’re gonna keep doin’ you in school so you can get to uni and shit. But we’re gonna sell some of our stuff we don’t need. The bed frames, all of da’s shit, shelves, whatever people’ll take. I’m goin’ down to the paper tomorrow to see how much an ad’ll cost for people to come and buy it all.”

“Marshall,” Louis cut in. “You don’t need to do this all. I can apply to some places too and—”

“No, you fuckin’ can’t. First off, you’re not old enough for anyone good to be willin’ to take you on, and second, you’re focusin’ on school. I’m a lost cause, but you still got a future.”

“You can’t do this all on your own. I can—”

“Drop it, Louie. You do anythin’ but focus on school and I’ll beat you black and blue.” Then he remembered their upcoming ‘audition’. “Listen,” he continued a little softer. “Sean down at River’s Hag offered us a gig for £50 a night Wednesdays if we’re any good. You think we can get somethin’ ready for tomorrow night?”

Louis seemed to perk up at the prospect of helping, even if it was only once a week. “Yeah, we can do a couple o’ covers. I don’t think they’d want anythin’ new.”

Marshall nodded, “sounds good. Do your homework and I’ll make us dinner then we’ll get to practicin’.”

Without argument, Louis agreed. He didn’t have much homework beyond some Maths pages, so could finish quickly and decide on some of their best songs.

Louis had always been interested in playing music and convinced his mother to invest in lessons for guitar, but Marshall’s interest had been later and was based solely on the fact that his father had won a bass guitar through some TV contest. Marshall attended some classes but was more interested in teaching himself once he had the basics. The two of them had been playing together for fun for a couple of years but had never really thought about going out to perform. Even when Louis started arranging some original songs, it was always for themselves. But the chance to earn some money in their time of need was too good to pass up.

After dinner, the two of them set up in the living room and decided on three different types of songs that they could play best and practised until it was well enough past midnight that Marshall figured he’d better put his foot down and get them to sleep. It wasn’t strange for him to boss Louis around – he had always done it – but some of the things, like going to bed on time, would need some getting used to.

In the morning, Marshall slept in a bit, waking up as Louis tried to leave to school as quietly as he could. “Louie!” Marshall called, stumbling out of bed as his brother was about to leave. “Make sure you don’t let on to anyone da’s gone. You’re still underage and they’ll put you with some other family if they find out, yeah?”

“Don’t worry, Marshall,” Louis assured. “It’ll be fine. See you tonight.”

Once Marshall had some time to fully wake up, he began going through the house to find anything they could sell. He started in his da’s room, instead identifying everything they would keep, knowing that they’d sell everything else, then worked his way through the rest of the house. In their da’s room, they’d sell the few books he had – except the ones that belonged to their mother – and would sell any of the clothes he left behind along with all of the furniture in his room.

In the living room and kitchen, they could sell the kitchen table and chairs (they didn’t use them anyway) as well as the armchair and end table. They’d keep the sofa and coffee table since they used both frequently. For now, they’d keep the TV for sanity’s sake – it wasn’t a very good one anyway – but they’d sell the unit the TV was in, along with the knick-knacks accumulated by their mother over the years. But he’d let Louis decide if there were any they needed to keep. He had always been closer with their mother. They could sell the floor lamp and table lamp as well.

They’d leave the stuff in their room alone for now, but could sell their bed frames, end table, and book shelf if needed. They would keep the desk so there was somewhere Louis could easily do homework.

Marshall hoped that they’d be able to get some good money for all the junk. He would intentionally set the prices high so that people could haggle down to the actual price he had in mind; maybe that would pay off. They would set the sale for Saturday – in a few days – and could put the money towards food. He would need a real job to make rent and utilities in a couple of months (or sooner if the utilities were shut off).

He went down to the local paper’s office and paid the little money from their two-hundred to get their ad in the paper for Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Marshall and Louis would hide everything not being sold in the bedrooms, bringing out all saleable items to the main area so there was no confusion. He had moved a large number of items from their father’s room into the living room by the time Louis returned home.

“Any calls about jobs?” he asked, sitting down on the sofa and working on music homework mindlessly in front of the TV.

“Nah,” Marshall sighed, “but I put an ad for Saturday for the junk sale. We’ll move everythin’ not bein’ sold into da’s room.”

Louis nodded and worked in silence as Marshall watched TV.

Just before six o’clock, the two of them headed down to the pub with guitars in hand, ready to perform a few songs for the owner, hoping that something would come out of it.

The pub was uncharacteristically empty save for a few regulars, but Sean assured them Wednesdays usually got busy a bit later than other days. He got the boys set up on a small raised platform in the corner of the pub, which both looked and smelled very old. Marshall looked over at Louis whose hands were shaking; he had always been the more reserved of the two brothers. Being forced in front of even a small crowd was a new experience for him. Marshall, on the other hand, thrived on being the centre of attention.

“Louie,” Marshall whispered. “It’ll be good. Breathe.”

Louis swallowed and nodded before starting their first song. As they played and sang, his nerves melted away and he simply felt the music. Once they ended their first song, some of the patrons clapped while Sean nodded. “Got anymore?”

“A couple more,” Marshall replied.

Sean nodded again. “Play ‘em.”

Again, Louis took the lead, always the one arranging and singing lead vocals. Once the second song finished, he led them straight into their final song, receiving applause at the end of each. The pub had started to become a bit busier during their set, and those who had come in were only supportive.

“Right,” Sean said once they had finished. “You’re good for six to nine every Wednesday? You’ll get the fifty pounds an’ be advertised outside wit’ another act comin’ on after. You’ll have a jar for your tips to take wit’ ya. What’s your act name?”

Marshall felt immense relief to have some income, even if it was only fifty pounds and some tips per week. It was better than nothing. They hadn’t discussed a band name of any sort before, never having planned to start performing for people before. “I guess… The Connelly Brothers,” he decided.

“Good,” Sean said writing the name down on the back of his hand before shaking Marshall’s. “Any news on your da?”

Marshall shook his head, “looks like he didn’t tell anyone. Thanks, Sean.”

“You boys have dinner yet? I’ll give yous each a free plate on the house – as a welcome to the family like.”

Neither Marshall nor Louis were going to turn down free food, so they sat in a corner near the kitchen and ate what they figured would be their last hearty meal for some time. Then they were on their way home, feeling ecstatic to have a regular gig.

“You were real great,” Marshall complimented, patting Louis’ shoulder. “Got over them nerves quick.”

Louis nodded, “yeah, once we started playin’, it was easy. Don’t think I’d do it by myself though.”

“Nah? I’d love the attention. Maybe get a few girls outta the deal,” Marshall grinned.

“Yeah, well there’s a reason we fight all the time.”

Marshall laughed, “ah, we get on fine.”

“Marshall!”

The boys turned to see the source of the new voice and saw one of Marshall’s less wholesome friends, Padraig, coming up towards them.

“Hey,” he said, coming up to the two boys, “where’re you comin’ from wit’ your guitars, ya langers?”

“Fuck off,” Marshall scoffed, though he was smiling. “We were down at the Hag doin’ somethin’ useful. More than can be said about you skulkin’ around like.”

Padraig laughed. “Listen, me and Al and them are goin’ drinkin’. You comin’?”

Instantly, Marshall said, “yeah, lemme just—” But he stopped himself. Before, he would go without hesitation and take some money from his da’s wallet, but that wasn’t an option anymore. “Nah, Paddy, can’t.” Marshall thought he heard Louis exhale breath like he had been holding it in.

“Ah, Marshall,” Padraig urged, “come on. Lou can come too if you want, yeah?”

“Sorry, Pat. Things are shit at home right now. We gotta go.”

“Marshall!” Padraig repeated, but Marshall waved him off and set off with Louis back home.

“You can go with them if you want,” Louis said, not all that convincingly, once they were out of earshot.

“I’m not gonna leave you at the house alone and I can’t afford anythin’ anyhow. ‘Sides, I should probably start avoidin’ the likes of Padraig Mulcahy if I want to do any sort of decent work.”

“There’re rumours about him at school. How he’s sellin’ to some of the kids and wanted by the police and the like.”

“I know,” Marshall nodded. “Those rumours’ve always been true. The sellin’ kind anyway. Padraig’d piss his pants if the police ever even looked at him. Kid’s a fuckin’ coward when it comes down to’t.”

Once they were at home, they worked together to move the bigger items into their respective places for the Saturday sale. They moved the coffee table and couch into their da’s old room but moved the TV into their bedroom. They could enjoy a couple of nights of TV in bed. May as well try to make the best of a shit situation.

“What kind of jobs’re you tryin’ to get?” Louis asked from his bed as the commercials came on the television.

“Anythin’ I can,” Marshall yawned. “Manual types mostly. If I can get somethin’ down the docks, I’ll be set. But I applied at pubs, shops, warehouses too. If I can get a couple, that’ll be good.”

“You’re goin’ to work yourself dead. I can get somethin’ small – delivery or somethin’ for after school. The kind that only takes an hour or two—”

“Drop it, Louie,” Marshall interrupted. “I appreciate you want to help, but your job is to get somewhere better and you’ll do that by bein’ the smart shit you are in school. I’ve nothin’ goin’ for me. It’s good Da left in a way. At least I’ll get doin’ somethin’, yeah?”

Louis was silent for a few moments before quietly asking, “what’ll happen if you don’t get anythin’ in time?”

“Nothin’,” Marshall assured him. “We’ll go where we can and find somethin’ new and better.” But Marshall knew that if worst came to worst, he’d get Louis taken away and fostered with a good family while he alone suffered. Louis didn’t need to know that though. “Don’t worry though, baby bro. I’ll keep harrassin’ them all until they give me somethin’. Tomorrow, I’m goin’ to go back to all the places I applied and check up on it all. Eventually, they’ll get sick of me comin’ and give me a job just to shut me up.” Or they’ll have me arrested, he thought.

“Okay,” Louis said, sounding entirely unconvinced.

“It’s late,” Marshall said, turning of the TV. “Let’s get some sleep.” As they settled into their respective beds, Marshall’s mind wouldn’t shut up. It was easy to forget how young Louis was. He was fifteen but had always been a little bit younger – a little more naïve. He took a lot after their mother, and it wasn’t just because they had the same look to them – dark hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. Louis was soft and kind and got lost in his dreams just like their mother had. He was soulful and took things to heart just like she had. Louis was Marshall’s best friend and brother, and now he was his dependent. He’d have to be a bit less harsh with him and try to understand him a bit more if they were goin’ to get on in this new life of theirs.


	6. Long After Death

**A/N: I always really liked Marshall and teen-aged Mateo's relationship even though most of it was only in things like this or imagined in my mind. I still think about writing a story that focuses more on their relationship.**

* * *

Mateo returned home from school with Lucas and Tomas who were chatting amongst each other what with Mateo being quieter than normal. He had a lot to mull over. Unlocking their front door, he shuffled in with his brothers pushing past him as they usually did. Normally, he’d put up a fight, but he wasn’t in the mood.

At the kitchen table, he got his homework out while the twins sat in the living room, turning on their game system. He didn’t know why he was even trying though; he couldn’t concentrate on anything. He needed to talk with his dad and get some advice before he could even think about focusing. Instead, he left his homework where it was and joined his brothers until his father got home from work.

“Hey,” he said as he entered their home a little over an hour later. “You guys finish your homework?”

Mateo was up almost immediately as Lucas complained, “it’s Friday.”

“Do it now and you have the whole weekend to fuck around, yeah?”

Lucas rolled his eyes and trudged to the kitchen table with his twin and his homework in tow.

“Da, can I talk to you?” Mateo cut in as Marshall was gathering ingredients for dinner.

“Course, what is it?”

He scratched his neck, “can we talk in my room or something?”

Marshall stopped what he was doing to look at his eldest son who was looking sick and troubled, “yeah, man. You two: I want to see some work done when I get back.” He preheated the oven before following Mateo, who had already disappeared. The kid had always been anxious, but he had learned how to manage his anxiety when he was younger and still seeing a counsellor. He would still have his moments, but usually faired pretty well. 

In the single bedroom that Mateo had to himself, he was already sitting on the edge of his bed when Marshall entered. “What’s up, man? You alright?”

Mateo shook his head, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Ah, shit,” Marshall sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. He didn’t know how, but he knew what was coming. Maybe it was because Mateo looked so much like him and had all the same tells or maybe it was because they always had a special connection. Either way, it wasn’t good news.

“What?” Mateo usually hated when his dad reached the conclusion before he had an opportunity to actually share the news. But this time, he wanted him to get there. At least, it would be a little easier.

“You got her pregnant, didn’t you?”

“Uh… yeah,” Mateo spluttered. “How—how’d you know?”

“I know you better than you think, kid.” Marshall took a seat next to Mateo. “Well, when’d she tell you?”

“Today. At lunch. She found out yesterday, but she hasn’t been to a doctor or anything yet.” He remembered wishing she had waited until the end of the day. He was sure he failed that Chem test.

Marshall was silent for a moment, mulling it over before blurting, “what were you thinkin’, Matty? You’re not usin’ protection?”

“We are. Always.”

“Did a condom break or somethin’ then?”

“No. I mean, I don’t think so.”

“Jesus. Man. You think she cheated?”

“No,” Mateo said definitively. “We’ve been together for, like, two years. I know her. She’s not that kind of girl. And we’re in high school.”

“High school doesn’t have nothin’ to do with anythin’.” Marshall knew a thing or two about the minds of easy teenage girls – he had plenty of experience when he was in school. But then, Matty was right. J was not that kind of girl. She was the study hard and miss date nights for exams and read for fun kind of girl. “Then how’d she get knocked up?”

“I don’t know, da. But I don’t know what to do. You know her parents.”

“Yeah, well.” Jaskiran’s parents were hard-asses to say the least. They hated Mateo and, though they had only met him once or twice, hated Marshall too. They didn’t want their daughter hanging around a boy like Mateo who had a single father like Marshall. “She can get to Planned Parenthood to check that she’s really pregnant first and then figure it out from there. You think she’d get an abortion?”

“No.” He knew her beliefs and although she wasn’t religious like her parents, he knew that she wouldn’t even think about the possibility of an abortion.

“Alright, then let’s just wait until she gets the confirmation from the doctor.”

“But what if she is pregnant? Her parents won’t help her.” He could feel the familiar blinding panic rising but couldn’t stop it. “What do I do? I’m not ready for this. It’s going to ruin everything. This is so stupid. She’s supposed to be—I’m going to—I can’t—”

“Breathe, Mateo,” Marshall interrupted automatically in an uncharacteristically soothing voice, breathing deeply with his son for a few moments until he calmed down, avoiding a full-blown panic attack. “Okay?”

Mateo nodded, continuing his deep breaths.

“Right, so let’s say J is pregnant.”

Mateo nodded again. Breathe in. Breathe out.

“If she’s pregnant, then… she can come stay here. Then we’ll figure out everythin’ else after. But you’re still goin’ to be goin’ to college and shit. This isn’t stoppin’ anything, yeah?” There was no way in Hell that Marshall would let his first born son – the kid with high grades, smarts, and talent – destroy his life with one mistake that seemed to have been beyond his control anyway.

“Yeah,” Mateo agreed, feeling better with a plan in place. “Can she come over tomorrow so we can go to a clinic?”

Marshall sighed and nodded, “fine. In the morning though. I need to work in the afternoon.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Listen, man,” Marshall said, standing up and placing a hand on Mateo’s shoulder. “It’ll all be okay. You’re steppin’ up and that’s what matters. If you believe this is your kid – if there is a kid – then we’ll take care of it. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Mateo nodded.

“And breathe. Quit makin’ yourself sick over this. I’m goin’ to make dinner. Come and do your homework.” He patted his son on the back as Mateo stood and the two of them headed back to the kitchen. “Let’s see your homework,” Marshall barked at the twins as Mateo took his seat.

Lucas had completed half of a math question before doodling in the margins while Tomas was already ten questions in.

“Luke, you’re goin’ to be here a long time if you don’t start focusin’.”

“I don’t get it,” he complained.

“Then ask for help. Tom.”

“He doesn’t want my help, he just wants to complain.”

“Shut up.”

“What do you need help with?” Mateo cut in, hoping for something to occupy his mind. 

“Nothing,” Lucas grunted, getting back to work.

Mateo glanced at his father who rolled his eyes and shook his head, getting back to making dinner.

After dinner was finished and the kitchen was cleaned up, Tomas, who had finished his homework, found his way back to his video game, thankful to have a moment to himself, while Lucas scowled over his work, occasionally zoning out and returning back to the task when Marshall noticed and brought him back. Mateo had disappeared to his room, texting Jaskiran about the plan for Saturday morning. He still had insurmountable fear, but his father’s assurances and plan had eased his mind a little bit. But he needed silence and solitude if he was going to get anywhere on his English essay. So, other than texts between himself and J, and himself and his cousin, Ben, he was left to focus solely on his work as much as he could.

* * *

  
“Matty knocked his girl up,” Marshall announced rather bluntly. He and his brother would meet at a sports bar a few times a month to catch up now that they weren’t playing shows with their band on much of a regular basis any longer. It was loud and busy, but they enjoyed the energy.

Louis coughed, “what?”

“His girl’s pregnant,” Marshall repeated.

“How? I mean—”

Marshall shrugged, “he says he doesn’t know. That they were safe but—” he shrugged again.

“Shit.”

“Shit,” Marshall agreed.

“Well, what does that mean?” Louis asked after a moment.

Marshall sighed, “she’s goin’ to move in with us ‘cause her parents are batshit. I don’t know how it’s goin’ to work but just need to make sure Matty stays on track and doesn’t feel like he’s gotta drop out or miss college.” He’d kill the kid if he even thought about throwing his future away.

“You’re a good dad, Marshall.”

“Fuck off,” Marshall deflected. “Nah, but this is… They’re both these fuckin’ kids who’re top of their class; she’s a bloody track star. They’ve been together almost all of high school. Giant losers like the two of them shouldn’t be in a situation like this.”

Louis laughed, “yeah, well. How’s Matty handlin’ it?”

“Flippin’ out. We’ve been doin’ a lot of plannin’ and preparin’ already, tryin’ to keep him from goin’ insane but you know him. He overthinks every fuckin’ thing.”

“Sounds about right.”

“How

* * *

  
Marshall returned home after work. A heavily pregnant J was balanced on a kitchen chair, wiping down the kitchen cupboards.

“Get the fuck down from there,” Marshall said, hanging his keys on the hook by the door.

“I’m almost done!” she returned without looking at him.

He rolled his eyes, “you’re bein’ an idiot. Where’s Matty?”

“Ugh,” J sighed. “He’s putting together that stupid crib.”

“Why is he—”

“I’ve already tried,” she interrupted, slowly stepping down from the chair. “He’s in a mood.”

Marshall kicked off his shoes and made his way to Mateo and J’s room. Mateo was on the floor with a variety of crib parts and screws, looking irritated with the instructions provided.

“What’re you doin’, Matty?”

“Obviously putting a crib together,” he snapped.

When he was ‘in a mood’, it was best to ignore the attitude. It was a sign that he was teetering between peace and full-blown panic. “What’s up?”

“I… just need to do something right now,” he muttered.

“Well, erm.” It didn’t make sense for Mateo to build the crib. First of all, they had no room whatsoever for a full crib. Second of all, J and Matty would be moving in with the latter’s Uncle Louis and Auntie Lyla to have more space. They would just have to disassemble the crib again before the baby even came. But Marshall wasn’t sure if it would be better for Matty to offer to help or try to reason with him.

He didn’t have to decide. Mateo’s anger got the best of him and he threw the screwdriver he was holding in frustration. “These instructions are fucking shit and this crib is a piece of fucking garbage.”

Marshall ran his hand over his face. He knew what was coming. “Matty, why’re you buildin’ this crib?”

“I have a fucking kid coming.”

Closing the door, Marshall joined his son on the floor. “I know you’ve a kid comin’. But there’s no space for a crib, man. And you’d just have to take it apart again…”

Mateo closed his eyes and shook his head but remained silent.

“I know you don’t like talkin’ about it, but it’s goin’ to happen. It makes the most sense.”

“Why can’t we just stay here? Me and J and the kid will be in here most of the time anyway. We’re not going to get in your way or anything.”

“Matty, you need space. That kid’ll drive you mad with crying. And J. Not to mention your brothers. But you’re goin’ to need some space from each other. And from the kid. Plus, Lyla’s far better with the whole baby thing.”

“I don’t care. I can’t—I can’t—I need—I need to—You’re—” He shook his head again, trying to calm his shaky breaths. “I’m sorry.”

Marshall slung his arm around his son’s shoulder, “you’re fine, man. Breathe.”

Instead of calming himself down, Mateo began to quickly rant. “I can’t do this on my own. I need you there. I don’t want to leave. I know it’s better, but I don’t want to. Why did this happen? I don’t want this. I don’t—I wanted something different. How can I—”

“It’s alright, Mateo,” Marshall interrupted, pulling him closer. 

He shook his head and protested but Marshall shushed him.

“Listen, man. I’m goin’ to be seein’ you all the time still. Don’t know why you think I wouldn’t. You won’t be on your own. I’ll be here whenever you need me, yeah? And you’ll have Uncle Lou, Ben, your aunt, J. And you’re still goin’ to college. You’ll do that counsellin’ shit and you’ll come out the same as you would without the mess. And you’ll have a pretty awesome kid.”

Mateo sniffled, “you don’t know that it’ll be awesome.”

“You weren’t planned and you’re awesome.”

“If I were awesome, I wouldn’t be a grown man crying on the floor with his da.”

Marshall chuckled, “you’re not a grown man yet. And you’ve been through shit.”

“It was so long ago though.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not somethin’ that has a time limit, yeah?”

Mateo shrugged.

“And your mam had her moments. Do you remember comin’ to see me in London?”

“Not really.”

“Well, you and your mam surprised me. I had no idea you were comin’ with your aunt. Especially since your mam was terrified of flyin’. I once suggested she fly out to San Francisco with everyone for a festival we were playin’ and she had somethin’ like what you get just thinkin’ about bein’ on a plane. She was always over the top, but this was somethin’ else. You’re doin’ fine. She looked high as a kite when you two came out because she was doped up on sleep-aids to numb her fear. You’ve got her beat – you can usually calm yourself down.”

“I was thinking…” Mateo started, feeling more at ease as they talked about his late mother.

“Yeah?” It was always a relief when Mateo’s mind moved on to something new. Marshall leaned back against Mateo’s bed and his son did the same.

“Well, I have a feeling the kid’s going to be a girl. I don’t know why, I just do. I was thinking I could name her Maya. But… what do you think?”

“You mean would I be okay with it?”

Mateo nodded.

Marshall thought about it a moment. He didn’t say her name anymore. Not usually. If he was speaking to his sons, he would only call her their ‘mam’. The only time he ever said her name anymore was on her birthday when they’d visit her headstone. It would certainly be weird to have another Maya around – especially one who would probably end up being a lot tamer and more well-mannered with parents like Matty and J than her namesake. But he would get used to it and maybe she would take on some of the more positive characteristics of her grandmother – the bravery, the beauty, the willingness to stand up and fight for her loved ones. “Yeah,” he decided. “I think that’d be really nice. But what if it’s a boy?”

“I don’t think it will be. I’m not sure what we’d name a boy.”

“Well,” Marshall stretched, “I hear ‘Marshall’ is a popular choice.”

Mateo rolled his eyes and laughed. “Fine, if it’s a boy, we’ll name him Marshall.”

“That’s bindin’. I’m holdin’ you to that. Better break the news to J.”

“She’s given me full naming rights.”

“That’s a trap.”

“It’s not,” Mateo laughed. “But she does have veto power if I choose something awful.”

“Smart girl. So, then, Maya what? What’ll your kid’s second name be? And what’re you doin’ about the last name? It can’t be Zevallos-Connelly-Kaur or anythin’. The fuckin’ kid’ll never stand a chance.”

“We’re sticking with Zevallos-Connelly. We’re going to get married after she’s born, and Jas will take my name.”

“Christ,” Marshall laughed.

“What?”

“Just thinkin’. You’ll have this Sikh girl who’s goin’ to have a last name like Zevallos-Connelly. Just think it’s funny.”

Mateo smiled, “yeah, I guess it is.”

“So, second name?”

“Well… I don’t know because I figured since her first name would be Maya, I might want to… maybe use Auntie Lyla’s name. But Maya Lyla sounds weird.”

“You tryin’ to make her cry?”

“No, but she probably will,” Mateo agreed. “I just—is that a weird name?”

“Nah, it’s fine. How often are you sayin’ the middle name? Anyway, I thought the same with Tom with Louis as his middle name. Didn’t sound great, but that’s not the point anyway. ‘Sides middle names make no sense so may as well do whatever the fuck you want.”


	7. 10-Year-Old Mateo

**A/N: Another Marshall/Matty imagining.**

* * *

Mateo Zevallos-Connelly was exhausted. He could barely sleep because of his fear for when he did, his mother would appear, faceless and shapeless and forgotten.

It was a nightmare he had begun having nightly a week ago and he had been so scared that he stopped sleeping altogether if he could help it. And it was stupid because the dream wasn’t really about anything. It was about nothing. He knew that the person he was talking to while he slept was his mother, but she had no face and no voice and no colour. He had forgotten what she looked like and what she smelled like and how she laughed. There was nothing. He would then wake up crying, feeling guilty for forgetting her, and scared that he wouldn’t remember anything about her soon.

It had been six years since she died and all he could remember now was her favourite yellow dress and that she would call him ‘mijo’. But he couldn’t remember how it had sounded.

He tried hiding it from his da, not wanting him to feel sad, but he had reached his limit. He wanted to do well in school and he wanted to make sure Luke and Tomas kept out of trouble and he wanted his da to be proud, but he couldn’t do any of it. He could barely focus for more than a few seconds at a time.

Mateo got out of his twin bed in the single room that he got to himself. His brothers had to share their room and da slept on the pull-out couch in the living room, so Mateo was pretty lucky.

He wasn’t sure what time it was when he opened his bedroom door, but he saw the light from the TV flashing so he thought that it couldn’t have been all that late.

Mateo crept out of his room and into the living room to see his da sitting on the edge of the couch-still-in-couch-form, with his laptop open on the coffee table, working in the dark.

“Da?” he tried in a voice that was barely audible.

But Mateo’s da kept the TV volume low while his sons slept, so the new sound was easy to hear. Marshall Connelly’s head snapped up to look in Mateo’s direction, “Matty? What’re you doing out of bed? It’s almost midnight.”

Mateo hadn’t exactly planned what he was going to say so simply shrugged and said, “I can’t sleep.”

Marshall closed the laptop, “and how’s getting out of bed gonna help?”

Not knowing what else to say and feeling completely deprived of sleep, Mateo began to cry.

“Shit, Matty,” his da said, walking to his son and pulling him into a hug. He led Mateo over to the couch to sit down next to him. “You wanna watch some TV? That might help you fall asleep.”

Mateo shook his head, “I don’t want to sleep anymore.”

Marshall stifled a chuckle, “well you don’t really have a choice there. You don’t sleep and your body fights back. Why don’t you want to sleep?”

“I keep having bad dreams,” Mateo sobbed. “Every time I sleep, I have the same dream and I don’t like it and I can’t stop them!”

“Well, what’re they about?”

But Mateo’s body was shaking as he cried, trying to stay quiet so he wouldn’t wake his brothers and make his da mad. His da let him out of his embrace and left the couch. Mateo figured he was mad and was walking away like he did when Lucas would get on his nerves so that he wouldn’t shout at him. However, he returned a moment later with a glass of water.

“Drink this, man, and breathe. Remember?”

Mateo nodded and did as he was told, breathing the way that his therapist had taught him after his mom had died. He managed to calm himself and drink the water until he could talk again. “I—” he felt his voice cracked and took in two deep breaths before starting again. “I think I can’t remember mama anymore.” He didn’t want to see how hurt his father was, so avoided his gaze, instead focusing on the glass in his hands.

“Why d’you say that?” Marshall asked after a moment.

Cautiously, Mateo looked at his father’s face and felt his stomach turn when he saw the sadness there. He sniffled, “because in my dream, mama’s talking to me, but I can’t hear what her voice sounds like or what she really looks like or feels like. And then I wake up sad and scared because I don’t want her to be sad that I can’t remember.” He started to cry again. 

Marshall pulled his son close next to him and held him for a bit while he cried before speaking again. “Your mam wouldn’t be sad. You couldn’t do anything to make her sad. She loves you too much, yeah?”

Mateo nodded, though he was entirely unconvinced.

“You know, I don’t remember what her voice sounds like anymore either. Something like that’s a hard thing to remember. What I do remember is that her voice was loud most of the time. She was always laughing and joking… or yelling at me… or yelling at someone else.” Marshall laughed to himself. “She was very loud.”

“Why was she yelling?”

“Your mam had a temper. She was a hot-head like me and got riled up real easy. She’d yell at me for getting on her nerves or for doing something stupid – I once went in for an operation without telling her and she near-ripped me a new one at the hospital in front of all the nurses there. She kept me from being a complete idiot. And she only yelled at other people if she was defending herself. Or me. Or you. Or your auntie – whoever she loved.”

“Oh,” Mateo said simply, imagining a shape in a yellow dress with a red face fighting off a bunch of people. “What did you do when she yelled at other people?”

“Stayed far away,” Marshall joked. “Or if it was real bad, I’d have to save the poor shit who crossed her. Was one time where some guy I was working with said something bad about you and me, and I had to actually lift her up and carry her out before she started hitting him.”

“What did he say to make her so mad?”

Marshall thought for a moment. She’d probably be yelling at him if she knew he had told their son about what was said. But it seemed to be helping Mateo keep his mind off of his guilt. “Well sometimes people don’t know what they’re talking about. It was a stupid comment about how she was Spanish and I was Irish, which doesn’t really go together in some people’s minds.”

“Why not?”

“Eh, well, some people think that people shouldn’t mix their cultures or anything. But those people are fu—they’re idiots, yeah?”

Mateo nodded and sipped his water again. “Do you remember mama’s yellow dress?”

Marshall smiled, “yeah, of course. I thought you didn’t remember anything?”

“I remember that dress and I remember she called me ‘mijo’ a lot.”

“Yeah, she did,” Marshall confirmed. “And she loved that dress. It’s what she wore at her funeral. She always liked bright colours. She’d normally wear that dress with nail polish and shoes and a purse that were this green-blue aqua colour. Your mam liked to stand out.”

“What colour was her hair and her skin and her eyes?”

“You have pictures of her, man, don’t you?”

Mateo nodded, “but they—they’re not the same.”

“I—Well, her skin was like yours is: a bit darker than mine but not by much. Her hair was dark – almost black – but she dyed it a light brown. She didn’t want anyone to know, so keep that one to yourself, yeah? Her eyes were brown but dark, like. Almost black.” Marshall thought a little more. “She was a bit shorter than me but wore high heels all the time so we usually looked almost the same height. She liked to exercise a lot – going to the gym and whatever – and she liked to box.”

“Like punching and stuff?”

“Yeah,” Marshall nodded. “She liked to be able to protect herself.” He thought about the night that had set her on that path when her face was swollen and bloodied by some producer trying to hook up with her but thought it best not to mention that to his son.

“That’s cool. What else did she do?” Mateo was starting to feel better. He could see a little more of her. It wasn’t her appearance that was important but how her personality affected her appearance.

“Well, she went back to school after she had you and before Luke and Tom because she didn’t graduate high school when she went. So she got her diploma and then went to school to learn about running a business. She wanted to get into event planning and stuff. She was really good at decorating and planning things, so she was going to make a career out of it. Your mam was really creative and kept the apartment clean and listened to godawful Latin music – that stuff you like is probably because she’d blast it when you’d be at home together.


	8. New Home

**A/N: This one's very short. Between Marshall and Louis. I just kept/keep imagining different scenes and had to write them out, but they didn't really connect to anything else.**

* * *

“Stop here,” Marshall commanded, the cab driver pulling over to the side. “Here it is,” he said to his brother before paying the fare and sliding out the back seat.

Out on the street, it was quiet with only an occasional car passing. There weren’t many trees and the street was quite wide, like it had been intended for something else years ago and had instead manifested into a residential area. Marshall led his brother to the small house with a for sale sign in its front yard. The grass was overgrown and the windows were dirty. The sign read ‘for sale by owner.’

“What d’you think?” Marshall grinned.

“It’s a shithole,” Louis replied without missing a beat.

Marshall laughed, “yeah it is and it’s fucking steal because of it.”

“It’s going to cost you more money than anything.”

“Come see the inside,” Marshall insisted, shaking his head. “Everything about it is solid even if it needs a little surface work.”

When they went inside, Louis scrunched up his face, hit with the scent of what was unmistakably caused by an indoor smoker. “Marshall, the walls are fucking yellow from the smoke.”

“Don’t worry about it, baby bro. It’ll come out no problem.”

“That’s cigarette smoke, Marshall. That shit stays in the walls and floors.”

Marshall stood in the tiny living room. “Nah, it’s fabrics that the shit sticks to. The walls are all painted and the floors are all laminate – even in the bedrooms. No carpet, no wallpaper, no issue, yeah?”

“And did the guy who sold you this tell you that?”

“I’m not so gullible, Louie,” Marshall scoffed. “Did my research. I picked up some cleaner and I’ll borrow your lawnmower—”

“Oh yeah?”

Marshall grinned. “And within a month or two, me and the boys’ll be living here and out of your hair.”

Louis sighed. Marshall had already bought the property and he never went into things that cost money without thinking it through first, so he said, “fine. Well, show me around.”


	9. Before Lyla

**A/N: The timeline in this one is a little wonky so despite it being longer, it bogged me down and so... I stopped in true fashion.**

* * *

Small windows looking out onto a shaded street surrounded by other buildings let the littlest bit of cold light through broken yellowing blinds. The old hotel was fine for a couple nights of sleep or fun, but it was far from comfortable. Clothes were littered on the carpeted floor, the Brooklyn hotel affordable only for its small size, lack of soundproofing, and inability to be properly cleaned.

Marshall Connelly woke to the sound of his neighbour’s television playing the Saturday morning news. On his stomach, he stretched like superman before opening eyes and taking inventory of his surroundings. The musky scent of peppermint and mould brought him back to his senses.

He and his band had been playing The Queen’s Head on the Friday night; it was a dingy little shithole of a pub with a small crowd that his brother decided they would never play for again. Marshall, on the other hand, loved it. It was a dive to say the least, but the drinks were good and so was the atmosphere. It reminded him of the cheap, dirty pubs on the grimy side of town back in Cork. And he had become fast friends with a couple of the bartenders, Maya and Chuck. They understood his personality, which was often too much for other people. He had spent the better part of the night drinking at the bar and chatting up the two bartenders. Maya was a bombshell and looked like she should have been walking runways, not serving drinks. She had a slight accent from where her family lived in The Bronx and had skin the colour of honey; her hair was dyed a lighter shade of brown than her natural colour, which was showing at the roots. The best thing about her though, by far, was that she had a mouth like a sailor’s and wasn’t afraid to challenge and make fun of Marshall who gave it just as good. Chuck was much the same in terms of personality, but not so much in terms of looks. He was pale with dark hair and a look of ghoulish exhaustion with dark circles under his eyes; the only thing that kept people from staying well clear of him was the wide grin that stretched across his face easily and often. The two of them took an immediate liking to the Irish thirty-something.

Another thing that Marshall particularly liked about The Queen’s Head was the type of girls it drew in – easy girls. It required little to no effort on his part to grab the attention of a minimally dressed brunette with poorly applied makeup and evidently low self-esteem and invite her back to his place where she slept soundly next to him.

Marshall slid groggily out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom where he could wash last night’s sweat, drink, and sex off of him – hopefully the cheap body glitter from his partner would wash off easily too. When he re-emerged from his bathroom, teeth brushed and body washed from head to toe, his date was gone, which Marshall very much appreciated. There was nothing worse than a girl who didn’t get the memo and wanted to stick around to chat.

It wasn’t all that late in the morning. Marshall was regularly waking up at five on weekday mornings for his job at the docks back in San Francisco, so his internal clock was tuned to get him up before twelve. Of all people one would expect to be a morning person, no one would have pegged Marshall for one. But he enjoyed having the whole day at his disposal, especially on a Saturday where he didn’t have a show to think about in the evening.

After breakfast with the band at a diner down the street, he was able to catch a couple hours of sleep and TV before heading back to The Queen’s Head to be with who he thought of as ‘his’ people. 

He enjoyed having a night off. Lately his brother’s sudden enthusiasm to get back into music found the band playing shows nearly every Friday and Saturday, many of the shows being at The Incubus in New York, a venue they had played at almost primarily ten years prior. But that was before his brother lost his mind over some girl and left the band. That had almost got themselves a record deal too. Marshall didn’t know what it was about his baby brother that made he and the rest of the band members drop what they were doing to start up The Connelly Brothers again, but that’s what they had all done, more or less. And now they found themselves flying across the continental US two or more times per month.

Going in to the pub a little earlier, there were fewer people, but he knew that would change in a couple of hours. He sat down at the empty bar and surveyed the liquor on the wall for a moment before Maya placed a beer down in front of him. “Couldn’t get enough?”

Marshall tipped his bottle in her direction before taking a sip and setting it down, “it’s good for the soul.”

“You have one of those?”

Marshall laughed, which turned into a cough.

“How did your friend do last night?” she asked, leaning on the bar.

“Ah,” Marshall shrugged, “she got the job done.”

“That good, huh?”

“The bar was set pretty low.”

“You getting ready for round two tonight?”

“Yeah, see what I can get before I fly back.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat. We have a country singer tonight. You can get yourself a cowgirl and fuck her like a sheep.”

“But I’ll have to listen to country music.” Marshall took a long swig of his beer. “No Chuck today?”

“He’ll be coming in a bit. I’m not working tonight.”

“What’ll you be doin’ instead?”

“Same thing as you but with a lot more class.”

He laughed, “I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use.”

“Dick. I’m hot. Guys trip over themselves to buy me things.”

“And then they hear you speak.”

“We’re not looking to talk to each other,” Maya winked. “I can bag myself a rich divorced man or a guy who just got his first bigshot paycheck. These guys love to throw their money around. And if they’re good in bed, then all the better for me.”

“And when they’re not?”

“I don’t need to see them ever again.”

“Hey guys,” Chuck said, appearing behind the bar looking more haggard than Marshall remembered.

“Dude, you’ve gotta sleep,” Maya commented, removing the apron she had been wearing around her waist. Then she turned her attention back to Marshall, “are you literally just sitting here all night?”

“Depends how long it takes.”

Maya rolled her eyes, “do you want to come to Manhattan and get something better?”

“Not if it’s a bunch of girls like you wantin’ me to spend money on them. Cheap girls are better.”

“Come on,” Maya urged. “Most of these girls will have loads of daddy issues… and you’re almost old enough to be their daddy.”

“Christ.” Marshall thought a moment and then said, “fine.”

“Yes! Okay, you need to look presentable. You got a dress shirt and some dress pants? It’s pretty high-end.”

Marshall nodded, finishing off his beer.

“Okay,” Maya said, seeming energized. “I’m going to head home to get ready and I’ll meet you at 86th Street at ten.”

Marshall raised his empty bottle as she ran off, receiving another from Chuck.

A few hours later, he was getting off the train at the 86th Street Station and meeting up with Maya. He had seen her all of two times in her work attire – black skirt, shirt, and heels – but outside of work, she was completely different. She wore a bright teal long-sleeved dress that hugged her curves perfectly. Her earrings, heels, and clutch were bright yellow while her makeup accentuated all of her best qualities just as well as her dress.

“Shit, you clean up nice,” Marshall commented.

Maya raised and lowered one shoulder, winking, “let’s go.”

They arrived at what looked to Marshall like an art gallery, but it was dark and had loud indiscernible music playing. Maya led the way in, showing a ticket that included a plus one, and they made their way to the bar.

“Okay,” Maya said, once she had ordered a drink. “It’s open bar, so get whatever you want. For girls play up that you’re in a band, play up that accent, and pretend you’re rich.”

Marshall snorted, “you don’t need to tell me how to get a girl. I’ve been doin’ this since before you could talk.”

Maya laughed, “fuck off. I’m not that much younger than you. Then go ahead, big talker. You do yours and I’ll do mine.”

“Give me your phone,” Marshall demanded, reaching into his pocket to pull out his.

“Why?” she asked, trading hers for Marshall’s.

“Put your number in mine and I’ll do the same for yours.”

“If you think I’ll be going home with you…” she teased.

“Fuck off, darlin’. You’re not as good as you think you are—”

“You have no idea—”

“When you leave, text me, and I’ll do the same. Or if you get into trouble, yeah?”

Maya nodded and handed his phone back, retrieving hers. “Alright,” she said, “now go away before people think I’m here with you.”

He rolled his eyes and retreated with his beer to another part of the gallery.

In the centre of the wide-open space, there was a dance floor filled with twenty-something women in various states of inebriation based on their deteriorating dancing skills and inhibitions. He wasn’t much of a dancer – he’d need something stronger than beer for that – but he didn’t need to be. Within two minutes of observation, a short blonde appeared by his side.

“Hi,” she said simply, smiling and swaying to the music.

“Hey, how’s it goin’?” Marshall replied. She was a pretty girl with a nice body – all Marshall really needed.

“Where are you from?” she asked, picking up on his Irish accent, which he would admittedly lay on thicker than what his normal was for the sole reason that American girls loved Irish accents.

“Ireland. A place called Cork.”

“Oh,” the girl said, stepping a little closer. “I’m from Connecticut. Visiting some friends, but they all abandoned me. What’s your name?”

“Marshall. Yours?”

“I’m Tamara.” She rested her hand on Marshall’s, leaning close to him.

“D’you want to get a drink, Tamara?”

She shook her head and stood on her tiptoes, connecting her lips to his. He thought it would take a little more effort on his part to find himself a girl for the night, but this worked too. The two of them stood locked together, making out and ignoring everyone else around them, for an insurmountable time before Tamara pulled away.

“D’you want to get out of here?” Marshall asked, feeling a wild need to do more than make out.

But she simply shook her head and took his hand wordlessly, leading him behind her. He relented without any need for coercion and followed. On the way to wherever they were going, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. It was a text from Maya that read, “didn’t take long.” He glanced around quickly but couldn’t see her in the dark hall. Another text followed quickly after: “have fun ;)”

“Where you takin’ me?” he asked, grabbing at her.

She giggled and paused to make out with him a little more. After another minute, she pulled away again, “I work here during the day. I know my way around.” Marshall suspected that she wasn’t actually from Connecticut. And her name probably wasn’t Tamara. Eventually, she led him through a series of hallways using a key card and into a dark room where the only light was from a red emergency exit sign.

Alone and ready to find release in each other, they undressed and threw what little modesty they had out the window. For the next twenty minutes, they were solely focused on getting each other off. And when they were done, they cleaned themselves up and said their goodbyes without any false promises to every see each other again.

Marshall made his way to the bathroom where a bunch of men who looked like 1980s wall street goons were doing lines of coke. He did what he needed to do and left just as they were beginning to finish up; he found himself at the bar, looking for another drink and someone to talk to. One reason he preferred pubs and laidback parties is that you could always find someone to chat with while clubs and rich parties were solely for dancing, drinking, drugs and sex. He wasn’t there for dancing, could find better drugs with better people, and had already had sex. All he wanted now was a drink and someone to chat with, but he knew he wouldn’t get it here.

“You’re still here?”

Marshall turned to see Maya looking a little buzzed, “hey.”

“I thought you were going off with Miss Blonde,” she said, sipping her cocktail.

“I did.”

She raised her eyebrows, “kudos.”

He nodded, “what about you?”

“I’ve got my eye on that guy,” she said, motioning to a suited-up douchebag. “He doesn’t look like much, but he makes a lot.”

“And did a bunch of coke in the bathroom. Probably not his first line tonight either. He’ll get you home and pass out before you can even suck his tiny dick.”

Maya cackled drunkenly and then finished off her drink, “alright, then who do you think?”

Marshall surveyed the room, looking for the type of guy Maya would go for. He didn’t know her well, but she clearly came out for the money and the sex; it’d have to be someone specific. “What about that guy?” He pointed to a guy more casually dressed, clearly wanting to take a girl home but more hesitant.

“You sure?” She didn’t look fully convinced that this guy could keep up with her.

“Yeah, why not?”

She thought for a moment while she ordered another drink. “Alright but stick around a bit in case this guy’s a serial killer.”

Marshall watched Maya sashay towards her unsuspecting victim. He seemed surprised when she introduced herself but pleased all the same. He watched as they talked and laughed until she seemed to relax a little. “U ok?” he texted, wanting to leave. He watched as she reached into her clutch, apologizing to her new date, and read the text. She looked back at him and gave a subtle thumbs up. “Call if u need help,” he texted before sending another text to his brother who would be back at the hotel in his own room, hoping he’d be down for a couple of drinks.

* * *

  
The next Saturday as Marshall and his band were setting up for their show at The Incubus, he received another invitation from Maya: “Youre a good wingman. Club 2night?”

“Have a gig,” he replied. Looked like she wasn’t murdered after all.

“Who’re you textin’?” asked his bandmate, Brian – an Irish fiddler with a bushy beard – who was helping set up the microphones. “Everyone you know is here.”

“Think you got that wrong, Bry. It’s everyone you know.”

“Shit, you’re right.”

“Call Queens Head bout bartending,” Maya responded with a phone number. Marshall had offered his services as a gesture but had never bartended beyond parties. He’d give it a shot though. He hated having any downtime and liked the pub.

“Why don’t you stop dickin’ around and help us out?” Brian added, struggling with tangled cables.

“Fuck off,” Marshall replied, but pocketed his phone and went to help with the set up.

Later that night (or early the next morning), Marshall returned to his hotel room. The band’s set had gone well as usual and they had gone out drinking as semi-usual. He liked occasionally hanging out with his brother and his bandmates. They had been friends for over a decade and had all left Ireland for one reason or another. He and Louis, his brother, had left once the latter had finished school and was ready to get a degree in business. There was nothing for either of them in Ireland. Nothing good. They drove each other mad more often than not but were best friends in spite of it all.

Marshall said goodnight to his friends and went up to his room on the next level, lazily sliding the key into the old lock and turning it. He flipped the light switch and the room turned a dull yellow. The place was cheap, sure, but it also looked cheap. He and Louis had started toying with the idea of moving to New York permanently soon, especially since the majority of their shows over the next couple of months would be around New York. Flying back and forth getting expensive. Besides, it’s not like he really had anything keeping him in San Francisco. It was the rest of The Connelly Brothers that they were unsure about. As he undressed and fell into bed, he decided that he’d start looking for a new place first thing in the morning.

It wasn’t long after Marshall had drifted off that his phone started ringing somewhere in a pile of clothes on the floor. He woke up, confused by the darkness after feeling like he had slept for hours, and rolled towards his phone, which he found after some struggle. He answered it with a groggy, “hello?” and kept his eyes closed.

“It’s Maya,” the other voice said, though it sounded very unlike Maya. “Sorry if I woke you up. You’re in Brooklyn, right?”

“Yeah,” he croaked before clearing his throat. “You alright?”

“Could you do me a favour?” she asked, ignoring his question. “Could you meet me somewhere? You’re the closest person I know.”

“Why?”

“I’m at this party and this guy’s been bothering me all night but everyone’s starting to leave and he’s still here but I’m not gonna go out alone when—”

“Yeah, I’ll come,” he interrupted with a yawn, stretching simultaneously. “Where’re you?”

She let out a sigh and gave him her location, sounding immensely relieved.

Luckily for Marshall, it was only a couple stops away from the station closest to him. He hopped on the subway and was at the house in no time. For a girl who claimed to have class, she had a strange way of showing it. The house looked more like a crack den than anything else, but there was music playing and a few people were still there. Marshall walked in without bothering or needing to knock and found Maya standing by the dilapidated stairs. He wasn’t too far off the mark about it being a crack den; he was pretty sure some of the people littered on the floor were high out of their minds. He nodded to Maya who shrugged on her coat and quickly met him.

“Thank you,” she said hurriedly, eyeing a creep that had been watching her.

Marshall followed her gaze and locked eyes with the creep for a brief moment before the would-be assailant looked away quickly. “I thought you said you had class,” he said once the two of them were walking towards the station on the dead-quiet street.

“It was classy until the crackheads got in.”

Marshall found that hard to believe.

“Thanks for coming. Were you sleeping?”

Marshall nodded with another yawn, “for all of ten minutes, I think. Had the show then went out with the boys for a few. Who brought you there?” he gestured back in the direction from which they came.

“It was a friend of a friend. Sort of. Hoped it’d be something different. I can’t wait to get home and sleep though. Didn’t have anywhere close to enough to drink for that place to be fun.”

“Don’t you live in the Bronx? You’re not goin’ all the way back now.”

“I’ve gone back at this time before. It takes awhile but it’s fine.”

“I didn’t fuckin’ get up to be your bodyguard just for you to bite it on the way home. I have one of those bed-couch things in my room. You take the bed and I’ll get that thing.”

“Are you sure? You barely know me. I could be a crazy bitch.”

“I’ve no doubts about that bein’ true. But I’ve had worse. Yeah?”

After a moment, she nodded. “Sure,” she said quietly. “Thanks.”

Back at the hotel, Marshall did a quick ‘tidy’ by throwing his littered dirty clothes into one neat pile in the corner of the room before turning the couch into a shitty bed, using the extra blankets that had been sitting unused in the hotel closet to cover the suspicious stains on the mattress.

“This hotel’s shit,” Maya commented after emerging from the bathroom in a clean t-shirt that Marshall leant her and with a face free of makeup. “But still better than the crack house.”

“That’s how I keep sane,” Marshall agreed. “’It’s better than a crack house.’ I’m goin’ to start lookin’ for apartments soon.”

“Anything’s better than this. But thanks again.” She crawled under the covers and turned onto one side, facing away from Marshall’s sofa-bed.

“No problem,” he said. “All good?” She nodded and he turned the lights off before crawling into bed himself and passing out almost immediately.

It was late morning before either of them woke up and it was Marshall. He felt exhausted, not feeling like he got nearly enough sleep, but he liked to get up right when he woke up, so he did just that. Hopping in the shower and brushing his teeth brought him back to life. When he was out, Maya was still dead to the world. His flight home wouldn’t be for another few hours, but he’d have to check out soon or pay for another night.

“Maya,” he said roughly, not bothering with a gentle wake-up. “Get up.”

She groaned, dragging her pillow over her face with a muffled, “fuck you.”

“Then you’re payin’ for another night in this shithole.”

Maya flopped the pillow to the side of her head, eyes still closed. “I’m broke.”

“That’s a shocker.” He began haphazardly packing his bag, barely folding his clothes.

She groaned again, stretching her arms as far overhead as they would go. Slowly, she opened her eyes and kicked off the blankets, stumbling into the bathroom to refresh herself and change back into her own clothes.

When she re-emerged from the bathroom, she looked much better and was far more awake. “Thanks for letting me crash,” Maya said, sitting on the edge of the bed to strap her feet into some heels. “Do you fly out today?”

“Yeah,” Marshall nodded. “Think we’re back in a couple of weeks for another two shows. If I’ve time, I’ll stop by the Queen’s Head. Maybe hold off on the bartendin’ ‘til I actually live here.”

Maya nodded, standing up and checking that she had everything. “Alright. I’ll see you later.”

Marshall waved her off and checked the room one last time before heading down to the lobby where he would meet Louis, Nick, Brian and Steve to check out, get something to eat, and head to the airport to catch their flight back to San Francisco.


	10. Pregnancy

**A/N: How Maya told Marshall she was pregnant with Mateo.**

* * *

“Mateo, you need have your nap.”

“No!” the three-year-old screamed through leaking eyes and a running nose. “I not tired!”

“Yes you are,” his mother argued. “You’re cranky and you’re making mama cranky.”

“No! I am not!” He continued to try and pull the door open in front of which his mother stood on the verge of tears herself. Unable to achieve any movement from the door, Mateo stomped his foot and slapped his mother’s leg as hard as he could.

He was a small child and it hardly hurt, but Maya had had enough. Using the deepest and most monstrous voice she had ever heard herself use, she screamed, “Mateo, lie down now!”

His little frame jumped at the sound and he began to sob. She felt immediately guilty, but it was the only progress she had made towards what she wanted. “Bed,” she pointed, her voice a little quieter but just as stern. “Now.”

Mateo didn’t argue. He simply continued to sob and climbed into his bed.

“I love you mijo and I will come wake you up in an hour. Do not get out of bed unless it is an emergency. Do you understand?”

“Yes mama,” he cried.

“Good.” Then she closed the door firmly and made her way to the couch where she sat down and cried. How was she going to do it all when Marshall was on tour and she had two more to look after? It was her turn to sob. She lay down on her side and cried herself to sleep.

It wasn’t long before she felt her familiar nausea waking her up. She pushed herself to a seated position and then had to immediately run to the bathroom. She made it as far as the sink, mad at herself for giving herself another chore. The place was already disaster enough.

With Mateo still on the clock for his nap, she had time to clean the sink out as well as she could – she’d get Marshall to use bleach on it when he got home. Next, she could tackle the dishes before sorting the laundry. She had only just filled the sink with soap and water though when Mateo started crying. Maya rolled her eyes and took a deep breath before opening the door to Mateo’s room, which was right off the kitchen. “What is it, mijo?”

“I peed,” he cried, pointing at his bed, his pants and underwear in a pile in the floor.

Maya sighed, “it’s okay, Mateo. It was only an accident. Come with mama.” She brought him to the bathtub to wash him down before sending him into the living room to look at some books while she stripped his bed. 

The major downside of living in the building they did was the lack of laundry facilities. It was taking a toll on their household recently. She struggled to take more than one bag to the laundromat at a time and so handwashed essentials for immediate use, but Marshall would have to take the bigger loads by himself when he finished work. He’d have to take Mateo’s bedding when he got home. For now, Maya placed the soiled bedding outside on the fire escape for the cold to deal with.

The toddler bed was already encased in a plastic cover, so it was easy enough to clean on its own, and she was soon back to the dishes. Mateo was soon sufficiently bored with his books and found himself at Maya’s side. “Mama, I help?”

“Thank you, mijo. Can you help mama with something different?”

Mateo nodded happily, always eager to lend a small hand. Maya set him to find all the socks in the laundry and put the matching ones together. It would at least keep him busy and was probably teaching him some sort of skill.

With all of the dishes in the drying rack, Maya felt pretty accomplished. Checking in on Mateo, she found that he had abandoned his task and was back to looking at his books. “Mama, can you read me?” he asked, holding out a book once he saw her.

“Sure, mijo,” she smiled, pouring the laundry back into the basket and cuddling next to her son on the sofa.

“Are you home?” the text read.

Marshall blinked the sleep out of his eyes as he struggled to focus and type back a simple “ya.” He sat up on his unfolded futon, dazed from being woken up by the phone’s vibration. He had spent the last two nights working a triple shift to cover the deadbeat assholes who had decided not to show up for work. He wouldn’t turn his nose up at the overtime his boss would be giving him, but he felt exhausted and fell asleep almost immediately after collapsing onto his bed at home.

“K, be there soon,” Maya replied.

He groaned, “not rly in the mood.” Maya was sexy and they were terrific in bed together, but he wanted to sleep. However, Maya was also very stubborn and didn’t care all that much about what a person wanted if it interfered with her plans, so she didn’t reply and he knew he’d have to fight with her when she got there, so he prepared by taking a quick shower to wash off the work and wake himself up.

Almost as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, he heard a knock at the door. How’d she get in without buzzing him?

He opened the door in his towel and said “listen—” before Maya pushed her way past him. “I just worked a triple shift, My. I’m tried, yeah?”

She waved him off, “I’m not going to stay long.” But she paced rather than sitting down and didn’t explain herself and further. She was acting beyond strange, her heels click-clacking as she walked from wall to wall, playing with her hair. Marshall took the opportunity to shed the towel and pull some semi-clean sweats on. He’d have to do laundry soon.

“Why’re you here, My?” Marshall asked, standing still with arms crossed, watching his FWB walking as though lost in thought.

She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. Her lips moved as if to say something, but she seemed suddenly distracted by the folded down futon and busied herself instead on putting it into its sofa position.

Marshall watched her struggle a bit before succeeding, confused by her abnormally quiet and unsure demeanor.

She sat down on the sofa and turned the TV on before leaning back against the sofa back. She smiled at him, “why’d you have to work a triple shift? Was it Olly again?”

Marshall sighed and decided to play into her hand. “Nah,” he said, sitting next to her and yawning. “Olly was fired last week finally. Nah, it was this new kid – don’t even know his name. Was hired after Olly left and he just didn’t show up.”

“You know they can’t actually make you stay, right?”

“Fuck off, the money’s good. ‘Sides, I’m working for that manager’s job when he retires. Gotta make a good impression, yeah?”

Maya shrugged, “I guess so. I’d kill myself before doing that though.”

Marshall scoffed, taking the remote from her hand, “yeah, well, you’re hot and willin’. You don’t really gotta worry about money much.”

Usually, Maya would respond with something sassy or insulting. Instead, she watched TV quietly.

After a few moments of uncharacteristic silence, Marshall couldn’t stand it any longer. “What’s eatin’ you, My?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a loudmouth but you’ve been pretty much the opposite of that since comin’ in here. What’s wrong?”

She sighed, “I just…” Maya rolled her eyes, frustrated with herself just as much. She took a deep breath and said what she had arrived to say, “I’m pregnant.” Then everything she wanted to say came spilling out, hardly giving Marshall time to let the statement sink in. “I mean, it might not be yours, but I’m pretty sure it is. I sleep around, we know that, but I use condoms and I’m on the pill so that should be safe, right? But, like, you’re the only one who I fuck without condoms – I mean, I like it but now maybe it wasn’t so smart? And I’m pretty sure it’s yours but this other guy I slept with had this condom that was like, I don’t know, old and it almost broke so it could be his but I told him and he’s like fuck off because I said it was probably not his, but I don’t know. I just took like three home tests and they were all positive. I’ve been feeling kind of… off and missed my period so I thought I’d check because I was pregnant once, did I tell you that? No, because I don’t want kids and now—But it’s like it was then and—I didn’t get an abortion for the record, I just lost it. I don’t know what that matters, I just—”

“Christ, girl, stop talking,” Marshall finally broke in, trying to keep both her and himself from spiralling. “It’s too much all at once. Just…” He took a breath as Maya sat quietly, bouncing her knee.

After a moment of silence, she couldn’t stand it any longer. “I don’t expect anything or nothing, but I needed to let you know. Things… are going to start changing and I figured you’d notice. I’m going to have to get my own place – there’s no way my parents will let me continue living at home after this – and, I don’t know, get another job, I guess? But who’s going to hire a pregnant lady? I just… you’re probably my closest friend so I thought I owed it to you to—”

“Maya,” Marshall sighed, too tired for the sudden rush of information as well as her motormouth tendencies. “Just talk me through it all. When’d you find out?”

“Yesterday. I was actually with that other guy again last night, which is why I told him first and not you. He pretty much ran out of there as fast as he could.”

“So, when do you think it happened?”

“If I had to guess: probably around the beginning of July. I was supposed to get my period the following week and nothing happened so I just waited but when it didn’t come again, I… knew.”

“Alright, well—”  
“Before you say it, know that I don’t want an abortion or anything. I’m keeping it… if I can.”

“Jesus, I wasn’t going to suggest that, but you do what you do. Listen, My, I’ll help take care of you, yeah?”

“But what if it doesn’t turn out to be yours?”

He ran his hands over his tired face and thought a moment before speaking. “I never wanted a wife or anything, but I always wanted a kid. A son. I always thought I’d be a good da, you know? I don’t really know how it’ll work or anythin’ but it’s my kid and that other guy can fuck off. It’s goin’ to be fine, yeah?”

Maya’s were welling with tears, “really?”

“’Course. It’s… exciting actually.”

It seemed like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders and she seemed much more at ease. “Thank you, Marshall.”

“So what’s next then?”

Maya shook her head, “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“I guess doctor and shit?”

“Oh my God,” she said as if she suddenly remembered something important, “I haven’t been able to shit at all this past week.”

Marshall guffawed, caught off guard by her sudden return to normalcy. “Think that’s normal?”

“Yeah, I guess now it is. I don’t know. It’s awful though. That’s literally like the top reason for me taking the test next to no period. I am regular and eat right and all that. But here I am,” she sighed, far more at ease.

“All you need is a little anal,” Marshall teased.

Maya laughed, “and you’re going to give it to me?”

“Nah, fuck off, I want to sleep,” he said, motioning her off of the couch so that he could fold it back into the bed.

“Mind if I watch TV for a little bit longer?”

“Nah,” Marshall shook his head before lying down and facing away from the TV. He felt Maya lie down next to him with her back to his to watch some talk show that had started.


	11. Leaving for Tour

**A/N: This is a scene that ultimately made it into the story but was one of three (the next three) that I had thought about in advance, paused what I was writing at the time, wrote, and then added to the story when it was time. These scenes include some discrepancies and dates/details just because I wasn't sure where they would actually end up being once I had finished writing the main parts. Enjoy!**

* * *

_May 2011_

It was a big affair as The Connelly Brothers prepared to leave for their first real tour. Everyone’s family was present to see their loved ones off, and even some fans who were caught off-guard by the appearance of the band were sticking around to wish the boys well.

Lyla stood on the brink of tears with Ben in her arms and August by her side as they bid farewell to Louis who was equally uneasy about leaving for such a long stretch. The band was taking a huge risk, currently all unemployed, for the sake of the band and they hoped it would pay off – that the time away from family would end up meaning something rather than being a waste of time and money.

“Make sure you help your mam out,” Louis advised August. “And stay out of trouble. Don’t do anythin’ your uncle would do.”

August smirked but felt like he wanted to cry as well. “Can I come visit?”

Louis glanced at Lyla who avoided his gaze. “I’ll leave that up to your mam, yeah?” He turned his attention to his youngest son who he took from Lyla’s willing arms. “Sorry, I’ll miss your birthday, man. But I’ll be back soon.”

“I come?” asked Ben, the almost-two-year-old not quite comprehending the situation.

“Nah, man, sorry,” Louis kissed his son’s forehead. “This is only for da. You stay with August and mam.”

“No!” Ben cried but buried his head in Louis’ chest rather than throwing a tantrum, much to his father’s relief.

Louis rocked him slowly and patted his back while approaching Lyla. He held his free arm open and she wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her own head on his chest and crying silently. “I’ll call you every other day and send you a message if I can’t. We’ll Skype every week. And if I get a break that’s a week or longer, I’ll be back here without a second thought.”

“I already miss you so much,” she murmured into his chest, “and you’re not even gone yet. I don’t know how I’m going to do eight months.”

Louis rubbed her back in a circular motion, “hey, we were apart for over a decade. Eight months is nothin’.”

She shook her head, “it’s not the same.”

“No,” he agreed, “it’s not the same.”

Mateo wasn’t as agreeable as Ben had been and was throwing a tantrum in the corner of the airport away from everyone else while Maya cried, and Marshall tried to placate them both.

“It won’t be that long,” Marshall offered Maya who kept on apologizing and insisting she was fine.

Maya waved him off, “don’t worry about me. I can’t help it. I’m going to run to the bathroom. I’ll be back.” She stalked off around the corner to collect herself in the women’s bathroom while Marshall calmed Mateo down. When Maya returned, eyes dry and red, Mateo was sitting calmly on Marshall’s lap, people-watching.

“Mama!” he squealed upon seeing Maya.

She took him in her arms, “well, you’re doing a lot better.”

“I take care you when da gone,” he said proudly before leaning on Maya in a half hug.

Tears promptly began falling from Maya’s eyes once more. She shook her head, “I’m sorry. This is so stupid.”

Marshall pulled her into a hug and rested his head against hers.

“I think I love you too much,” she mumbled miserably.

Marshall chuckled, “I don’t think that’s an actual problem.” Then he added in a whisper, “I love you and will miss you.” They began walking back towards the group as Maya dried her eyes. “Make sure you get lots of cock while I’m gone,” he said, now a little too loud.

“Well, I’ll have to,” she replied, grinning through her tears.

“What’s a ‘cock’?” asked Mateo.

“A rooster – like cock-a-doodle-doo,” Maya responded, not missing a beat. “Da means chicken.”

“Yup,” Marshall agreed. “Need to make sure you both eat healthy while I’m gone.” Maya laughed. “Alright, boys, time to get to security,” Marshall announced, squeezing Maya’s arm as he did so.

The Connelly Brothers said their final goodbyes to their families and then left them behind to go through security.

Maya attached herself to Lyla’s arm immediately as they watched while the band weaved its way through the security line.


	12. Maya's Death

**A/N: I don't know why I felt the need to kill Maya. It just seemed like it needed to be done. And I was sad about it, but I needed to do it. However, I think writing quality (whatever little there was) dropped drastically after she was no longer in the story. I felt compelled to finish the story but didn't have the same interest or passion for it that I did up to that point. I still want to re-edit the ending of the story, but I don't know when that will be. So enjoy the first draft of this scene/chapter that I thought so much about, I need to write it down before I could continue the part of the story I was actually working on. And enjoy my placement holder for actual events that I didn't want to write at the time (BIRTH OF BABIES).**

* * *

_January 2013_

BIRTH OF BABIES

* * *

Marshall returned home shortly after four in the afternoon a week following the twins’ birth. It was a hectic week. Not only were they just as loud and tearful as Mateo had been when they brought him home, but there was now two of them, and Mateo had made a point of suddenly needing unadulterated attention so that Marshall and Maya were often faced with three crying and screaming children. The two of them were running on minimal sleep and were often at each other’s throats due to the deprivation. To add to his fatigue, Marshall had been faced with a lot of overtime. He welcomed the break from the crying, but was only trading one stress for another, and felt unexpectedly guilty leaving the exhausted mother of his children home alone with the monsters. Lyla had suggested continuing to use their nanny, but Maya couldn’t bear to leave the house, and Marshall always left too early. It just wasn’t an ideal situation all around.

Marshall walked up the front steps of his home, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Immediately, he could hear the triad of cries from their apartment above. Everything inside him told him to run away, but he fought the urge and trudged up the stairs. Opening the apartment door, he saw Lucas and Tomas writhing red-faced on the floor, a blanket adding some comfort to the hard laminate. Upon seeing his father, Mateo toddled over to Marshall, arms raised and hands grasping.

“Heya Matty, where’s mama?” He picked him up and consoled the almost-three-year-old.

With shaky, but calmer breaths, Mateo said, “mama in potty.”

“Okay,” said Marshall, understanding Maya’s need for a little peace, “you hungry?”

Mateo nodded with the corners of his lips downturned.

“Right, I’ll get us a snack. You keep your brothers company, yeah?” He placed Mateo on the ground and was met with toddler grip on his leg.

“No, daddy, no down!” Mateo screamed.

Marshall rolled his eyes, not in the mood to argue, and picked his son back up. Holding him in one arm, he went to the cupboard for some crackers, which he poured on the tray of Mateo’s high chair. “Alright Matty, I need to see Lucas and Tomas, so you need to sit in your chair and eat your crackers, yeah?”

Matty held on tightly to his father’s arm, seeming to try and figure if he wanted daddy or crackers more. Finally, he nodded, resolved, and was placed into the chair where his stomach growled for the crackers.

Marshall returned to the living room to tend to the twins who had barely taken a breath between their scream-cries. He picked up Lucas first whose diaper was wet and full. Marshall cleaned him up and put him in his bassinet then did the same with Tomas. They were both hungry but would have to wait for Maya on that front. They were also both tired and yawning, which helped the crying to cease. Maya would come out and feed them when she was safe from the noise.

Marshall turned on the TV, bringing Mateo to join him once his crackers were finished. The two sat on the couch for a little bit, Marshall’s feet aching from a day of work. In a few minutes, he’d start dinner. Even though it was quiet, Maya didn’t come out of the bathroom. “Mama’s takin’ a long time, huh?”

Mateo nodded eagerly, “mama take long time!”

After another few minutes passed, Marshall stood from the couch, “Matty, stay here. I’m goin’ to ask mama what’s takin’ so long.”

Mateo nodded absent-mindedly, eyes wide as some cartoon dogs traipsed across the TV.

“My?” Marshall called as he neared the bathroom. “Y’alright?”

She didn’t answer, so he knocked on the door and repeated himself. Without an answer the second time, he tried the child-proofed door handle, which was unlocked, and opened up slowly, peering in. He couldn’t open the door all the way because Maya was on the floor, passed out, her feet obstructing the door.

“Maya!” Marshall squeezed in through the door and knelt down beside her. “Maya, wake up, it’s Marshall.” But she didn’t respond. He traced his fingers over her neck, not entirely sure where a pulse would be, and felt nothing. He rested his head on her chest, listening for a heartbeat or a breath, but heard nothing. “Maya,” he repeated, his voice cracking. He glanced around the small room for some explanation for her state but found nothing. “Maya,” he said again, voice quieter. By her hand, her phone had been dropped. He picked it up and saw his name and number on the screen, ready to be dialled. Shaking his head, he cleared it and dialled 9-1-1.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” an authoritative voice came from the other end.

“I think my—wife,” it felt strange calling her something she wasn’t, but they never called themselves anything in terms of their relationship and it’d take too long to say anything else, “is dead.” He felt cold.

“What is your location?”

He gave the woman his address, “it’s the second-floor apartment. I—I don’t know if a stretcher’ll fit up the stairs.”

“Help is on the way. We’ll see about the stairs when we get to that point. What’s your name?”

“Marshall Connelly. Her name is Maya Zevallos. She’s not really my wife. We’re in a civil union. We have kids.”

“You have kids?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to Maya? Can you tell?”

“No, I don’t know. There’s blood on the toilet and she’s on the bathroom floor. Her phone showed she was ‘bout to call me at work. I don’t know.”

“Is there any other blood? Has she given birth recently?”

“Yeah, she gave birth last week,” he searched her body, looking for more blood beneath her layers of clothes until he found it. Beneath her pelvis, blood was soaked into her clothes. “Yeah, there’s more blood.” He ran his hand over his face, wanting to cry. He felt his voice crack, “I couldn’t find a pulse. She didn’t sound like she was breathin’. I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s okay,” the woman assured him, her strong voice strangely calming. “Is your door unlocked?”

“Uh, no,” Marshall stammered. “I’ll, uh, meet them downstairs.” He made to move, but thought better of it, “I don’t want to leave her alone.”

“You need to open the door so that the paramedics can get to her quickly and help.”

Marshall nodded and leaned over to kiss Maya’s forehead, “I’ll be right back, My. Okay,” he said to the operator, “I’m goin’ to the door.”

“Good,” said the operator. “Stay on the line with me, okay?”

“Yeah,” Marshall said, walking to the apartment door, his legs feeling like jelly.

“Daddy!” Mateo shouted, “where going?”

“It’s okay, Matty,” Marshall replied, trying his best to sound nonchalant. “Keep watchin’ your show. I’m just checkin’ the mail. Be back.”

“Do you know how long Maya had been on the floor before you found her?” the operator asked Marshall.

“No, I got back from work a bit after four. The boys were cryin’ so I thought she just needed a break – we have three under three. I changed them and fed Matty—” a thought occurred to him. “Lucas and Tomas are hungry. They’re bein’ breastfed. They’re gonna go hungry—”

“Sir, they will be okay. When Maya is taken to the hospital, you can pick up some formula. Do you have friends or family to help you?”

Marshall nodded, opening the front door of the building, “uh, yeah, my brother’ll help. I’m at the door.”

“Okay, do you hear the sirens?”

Marshall listened, “yeah, I hear them.”

“They should be there in a moment. When did you find Maya?”

“It was a couple minutes before I called you. Me and Matty were watchin’ TV and she hadn’t come out of the bathroom yet, so I went to check on her and she was on the floor. D’you think she bled out? How long were the boys alone?”

“I can’t answer that, sir. The paramedics will help.”

“They pulled up.”

“Alright, sir, speak to them now, okay?”

“Okay, thanks,” he hung up the phone and was greeted by the paramedics. “The stretcher won’t fit up the stairs,” Marshall explained as he led them up the wonky staircase. They abandoned the stretcher and only brought medical bags with them. Marshall led them into the apartment, ignoring Mateo’s exclamations of interest, and led them to the bathroom where they adjusted Maya so that the door could open fully before getting to work.

“Daddy!” Mateo shouted, sliding off the couch and running towards his father.

Marshall turned away from the scene and scooped his son in his arms, “do you want to go into mama’s room?”

Never allowed to go into his father’s room, Mateo jumped at the opportunity, “yeah, yeah, yeah!”

He placed Mateo on his bed and moved anything even remotely dangerous out of sight before putting the TV on so that Mateo could watch in there. “You watch TV in here for a little while, Mateo. Don’t touch what you’re not supposed to, yeah?” Before he left, he switched the child-proof handle to the inside of the door so that Mateo wouldn’t leave the room to see his dead mother.

Marshall returned to the scene where the paramedics were examining Maya. It didn’t take them long. One of the paramedics stood to face Marshall.

“She’s dead,” Marshall said, already knowing the answer.

The paramedic nodded, “it looks liked she bled out. This is a complication that sometimes arises from birth, particularly from C-sections, which it looks like she had. Is that right?”

Marshall nodded solemnly, “she had twins,” he motioned to the bassinets in the living room.

“We’re going to take her to the hospital where doctors can confirm that’s what happened. Is there another way out?”

“The fire escape.”

The paramedic nodded and left the apartment to get what they would need while the other medic prepared Maya for transport. Marshall watched her still, pale face lay motionless and lifeless. She kept expecting her to wake up and yell at him for letting people see her in such a state, or to get up and tend to Lucas and Tomas who were beginning to fuss. He set Maya’s phone on the side table in the living room and got his own from his pocket, dialling his brother’s number.

“Hey Marshall,” Louis’ voice came from the other end, “I’m just finishing up at work. Can I call you back in about an hour?”

“Maya’s dead,” Marshall said. His voice didn’t sound anything like his own.

There was silence on the other end for a moment, “what?”

“Maya died. The paramedics are takin’ her to the hospital. I need formula for Lucas and Tomas. Can you bring me somethin’?”

“Yeah,” his brother said in a quiet voice. “I’ll be right there.”

Marshall moved Mateo into his mother’s room, another exciting adventure, so that the paramedics could access the fire escape from his. He didn’t know how to tell Mateo. He’d be three in a couple of months. How could a three-year-old understand? And the twins wouldn’t even remember her. He silently watched the paramedics work, fighting to keep himself from falling apart. When they were gone, the puddle of congealed blood remained. He stared at it, mesmerized by the last hour, questions of what-ifs running through his mind. Mateo was shouting to come downstairs and the twins were screaming for food. Marshall heard none of it; his thoughts were loudest only interrupted by Louis entering from the fire escape, grocery bags in hand.

“Marshall,” whispered Louis urgently, kneeling next to his entranced brother. He put his hand on Marshall’s shoulder, which seemed to bring him out of his reverie.

“Thanks, Lou,” he said, getting up to make the babies some bottles.

Louis glanced at the bathroom where blood was staining the floor. “Marshall, I can do that.”

Marshall nodded, “yeah. I need to call Maya’s family.” He went into his bedroom and sat on the side of his bed, taking a few deep breaths. He knew it was only a matter of time before tears started falling, no matter how much he tried to avoid it, but he would have to hold his voice steady if dealing with Maya’s family. From Maya’s phone, he’d call Ed, probably the only family member who wouldn’t ignore his call.

After a couple of rings, Ed answered in Spanish.

“Uh, Ed, it’s Marshall.”

“Marshall?”

“Yeah, uh—” he took a deep breath. “Somethin’ happened to Maya—”

“Is she alright?”

Marshall shook his head, knowing full well Ed couldn’t see him, “no. No, she’s not. She’s gone. She… died.” It was foreign, feeling ‘died’ leave his lips.

“What?” Ed sounded baffled, “what? How?”

“The paramedics took her away to get a doctor to look her over, but they think it was a complication from birth—oh, she just had twins.” Maya hadn’t spoken to anyone in her family since her abuela’s funeral. Anything they knew about her was through social media, and she didn’t post updates very often. She’s never post anything anywhere again.

“I didn’t know she was pregnant again,” his voice was quieter.

“Ed, I’m sorry. I was at work. I didn’t know. Listen, I’ve gotta go take care of things. I’ll let you know about… funeral stuff.” He didn’t wait to hear anything Ed wanted to say and hung up quickly. He felt on the edge. Once false movement and he’d become a mess. Marshall took a deep breath and headed back into the living room where Louis was feeding both twins at once. Marshall silently stepped in and took over Tomas. He could tell that Louis was uncomfortable and wanted to discuss what happened, so Marshall said, “say what you’re thinkin’, Lou.”

Louis cleared his throat, “just want to know what happened.”

The twins finished their bottles at roughly the same time, so each brother took a baby to burp and sat on the sofa.

“I don’t know what happened,” Marshall said, the helplessness he had been feeling coming back full force. “That’s not true. They – the paramedics – said it was probably a complication from pregnancy. I don’t know what that means. She bled out.” Tomas belched and spit up on the blanket, and Lucas followed suit almost immediately. The brothers placed the twins back in their bassinets before sitting on the couch once more. Marshall leaned his head in his hands, “I used her phone to call 9-1-1, and my name was selected. She was goin’ to call me. But I guess it happened too quickly. I don’t know how long she was there for. Got home and boys were all wailing.” Now that he started talking, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. “How can she be dead just like that? I’m tryin’ to think of the last thing I said to her. Probably some dick comment last night when the boys weren’t goin’ down. Lucas and Tomas won’t even notice. I still have to tell Mateo. How do I tell a kid his mother’s dead?”

Louis didn’t miss the use of Mateo’s given name instead of Marshall’s usual ‘Matty’. “Tell me what you want me to do, Marshall, and I’ll do it. Anything.”

Marshall just shook his head in the palms of his hands, “Mateo is barely goin’ to remember her as he gets older. Lucas and Tomas won’t know her at all.”

“’Course they will,” Louis tried to assure his brother. “You’ll tell them about her. Show them pictures and tell them stories about her.”

“That’s not the same thing and you know it,” Marshall snapped. “Y’know,” he grinned, leaning back against the sofa, “one day, the three of them’ll be lookin’ for porn and’ll come across their mam on some site. That’ll be an interestin’ day.” He chuckled almost to himself much to Louis’ bemusement until the chuckle devolved into silent, shaking sobs. Marshall buried his face in his hand again. Louis rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder, not sure what else he should do; he had never seen his brother cry. When he was upset, he became distant and quiet, but never shed tears – at least, not in front of anyone. He briefly wondered if Maya had ever seen him cry.

Louis’ phone began to ring – a recorded cello melody. “It’s Lyla,” Louis said, taking the phone from his jacket pocket.

“Good,” Marshall grunted. “Ask her what I’m supposed to do next.” He listened as Louis answered his phone in the kitchen, heard as his brother told Lyla about what had happened.

“She’s gonna come over to help,” Louis said after he hung up. “She’ll bring some things with her – food and some stuff for the boys.”

Marshall sniffed and nodded, “I’m goin’ to clean the bathroom,” and stood abruptly.

Louis thought of the image of the bloody floor, “I can do that, Marshall.”

Marshall waved him off, “no. I have to do it. Can you hang with Mateo though?”

“Of course,” Louis replied, relieved to do something relatively helpful. “Sure.”

As Louis disappeared, Marshall got to work cleaning up as much liquid as he could with paper towels and then completing the rest with bleach and rags. He thought Maya must have been on the floor for some time because some of the blood on the edges of the congealed mess was beginning to crust. Tears fought to break free from behind his eyelids. He worked through it and scrubbed more than he had to, cleaning the parts of the bathroom that were unaffected just so that he had something to do. When he was finished, bleach was stinging his nose and making him drowsy. He turned cleaned up the rags and tossed him, along with the paper towels, in the garbage can before putting the bleach away, turning on the bathroom fan, and disappearing into his bedroom to be alone.

He dozed off and was being gently prodded awake a short time later. Marshall opened his eyes to see his concerned sister-in-law still in her winter coat. It took him a moment to realize that his window was open. “I put the twins in Mateo’s room,” she explained. “I had to air the place out.” He simply nodded his understanding as he sat up, his blanket draped over his shoulders to protect from the cold.

Lyla abruptly took his hand. “I’m sorry, Marshall.” Her voice cracked, “I’m so sorry.”

Marshall took his hand away and cleared his throat. The last thing he needed was to see someone else cry because he knew it would set him off again. “I need you to tell me what to do,” he said. “The funeral. How do I--? What do I do?”

Lyla steadied herself and took a breath, “I’ll do what I can to help. I’ll see if the funeral director I used for my dad knows someone local. What kind of funeral do you think she’d want?”

He shrugged, “somethin’ sparkly.”

Lyla chuckled, “you’re probably right. Have you… have you called her parents?”

“I called her brother. He’ll tell them. Her parents have ignored her calls since she left home. There’s no point tryin’.”

“Good.” She thought for a moment, “Marshall, I know you two lived together and have children together, but her parents might try to make a case for custody of Maya’s children or rights to her belongings since you weren’t married.”

Marshall shook his head, “we went down to City Hall after my cancer. She was upset that she couldn’t legally get any information on me. We were common law partners, so it’s fine. And I’m on the boys’ birth certificates and medical documents. We’ll be fine.”

“Oh. Good,” Lyla replied, relieved that they had done something so level-headed.

There was a long pause as Lyla looked through her phone for the funeral director’s number before Marshall blurted, “how do I tell Mateo?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “There’s no good way. I think… you just have to be honest and be clear. Explain what it means and answer any questions he has and then… just be with him and comfort him and make him feel safe and loved.” Lyla felt like she would start crying right away and could tell Marshall would rather she not, so she excused herself to “call the funeral home” and disappeared into the kitchen.

Marshall made his way up to what was still Maya’s room. He thought it would still be Maya’s room for a long time. Louis was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed with Mateo in his lap, the two of them watching some cartoon on TV. “Hey Matty,” Marshall said, nodding to Louis who understood and left the two alone, “what’re you watchin’?”

Mateo was completely entranced by the cartoon and barely responded.

“Matty, I need to turn the TV off and talk to you.”

“No! TV on!” Mateo demanded.

“I can turn it back on after. Promise. It’s very important.”

For once, logic won out with Mateo and he nodded. Maybe he sensed something off in his dad.

Marshall turned the TV off and placed Mateo on the edge of Maya’s bed where Marshall sat next to him. He tried to think of the best way to ease into the subject, resting very temporarily on a comparison to Bambi, annoyed with his mind for where it would go in a time like this, but not wanting to traumatize Mateo more than he already would be. “Matty,” he began, thinking of how he would liked to have been informed about his mother’s passing beyond the blunt ‘your mam’s dead’ that he had received. “Matty,” he repeated, thinking of what Matty would best respond to, “do you remember the paramedics that came over a little while ago?”

“What’s a para…medic?”

“Paramedics are those people who were in the house earlier. They go to where people are hurt and try to help them. They drive the ambulances you see with the sirens and bring people to hospitals to try and help them.”

“Oh. Who got hurt?”

Marshall took a deep breath, “mama got hurt. Da called the paramedics to try and help, but they couldn’t help her because… she died.” He breathed for a moment to let the words sink in. Mateo seemed to be mulling the words over. “Mama wasn’t feelin’ good and fell onto the floor. The paramedics couldn’t help her. Do you understand?”

Mateo seemed solemn. “Mama died,” he repeated. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Marshall replied. “The paramedics took her to the hospital to find out why.”

“Oh,” Mateo said. “So, the doctors can help mama?”

Marshall felt his heart breaking for his son, “no, man. Mama died. We have to have a funeral for her. The doctors can’t help her.”

“But why not?” Mateo demanded, his voice showing that he was on the verge of tears.

“I don’t know, Matty. It’s just how it is.”

Mateo began to sob. “I want mama!” he wailed.

Marshall scooped Mateo into his arms and laid down on Maya’s bed, “I know, Matty.” He could feel the warm tears falling over his own cheeks now. “I want her too,” he murmured. Then he held on tightly to his son and hummed tunelessly until he calmed down. “I need to go downstairs to talk with Auntie Lyla. Do you want to stay here and watch TV or go downstairs with me and Uncle Lou?”

“Is Ben here?” he seemed to perk up at the thought of a friend.

“No, man, sorry. He’s at home with August and Mol.”

The corners of Mateo’s mouth turned down, but he didn’t start crying again, “I come downstairs.”

Marshall nodded, picked him up, and then the two of them descended the ladder. Lyla was pacing around the living room and kitchen, talking on the phone and pausing at the kitchen table to write down some details she was given while Louis was unpacking formula and items that Lyla brought over, including more diapers and more formula.

When Lyla saw Mateo, she put the person she was talking to on hold. “Hi Mateo,” she said, stroking his hair sympathetically.

“Mama died,” he said, his bottom lip quivering and his voice straining.

She took him from Marshall and held him close to her, “I know, sweetheart.” Lyla sat on the sofa with Mateo, allowing him to rest on her lap while she finished her various phone calls.

It was dark by the time Louis and Lyla set off for home. They had helped Marshall with the twins when they started crying and Lyla had secured a funeral for Maya at the church where her abuela’s funeral had been. With the twins asleep, Lyla and Louis left Marshall and his boys to themselves, the former promising to be back tomorrow to help as Louis would be working.

Marshall gave Mateo a bath, despite his reservations about kneeling on the spot he had found Maya’s body, and read him two stories as usual, trying to keep as close to routine as possible. He already knew his mother was dead, but Marshall didn’t want him to think that meant everything would be different even if it would be. Things got difficult when Marshall left Mateo to sleep in his own bed. He put up a fuss and Marshall let him; he had a tough enough day without an argument over bed time too.

“Do you want to sleep with me in my bed tonight?” he asked his crying son who immediately stopped sobbing, despite his large frown, and nodded.

On the first night without Maya, the two of them lay side-by-side. Mateo was exhausted and fell asleep almost immediately, but Marshall was plagued by his thoughts and would be for the foreseeable future. He got out of bed and began working on Maya’s obituary followed by the eulogy he would read out for her funeral.

* * *

  
**Maya Valencia Zevallos**   
_February 17, 1981 – January 24, 2013_

Maya Valencia Zevallos, 31, passed away suddenly in her home on the afternoon of Thursday, January 24, 2013. She was born February 17, 1981 to parents Mateo and Florencia (nee Almansa) Zevallos. Maya recently gave birth to twins, Lucas Eduardo and Tomas Louis Zevallos-Connelly, and also leaves behind son Mateo Patrick Zevallos-Connelly, partner, Marshall Connelly, and brother Eduardo Zevallos as well as extended family who she loved dearly. Maya was a passionate woman filled with love and determination. Recently, she went back to school and completed her GED before attending college for a degree in business. She had hoped to open an event planning firm. A funeral will be held on Sunday, January 27th at Saint Ignatius Catholic Church to celebrate Maya’s life. She will be missed.


	13. Surprising Marshall

**A/N: Very short part of the chapter where Maya and Lyla land in London, the former surprising Marshall despite her fear of flying. Any way I could pigeonhole Maya in, I was game :P**

* * *

Once through customs, they made their way through the baggage claim area. They had managed to sort everything out into carry-on items alone, which meant that they wouldn’t have to wait to see Louis and Marshall. Maya felt like she was going to be sick as her nerves got the better of her. While she was thankful to be on the ground again, she had convinced herself that Marshall would be upset with the surprise. Lyla, on the other hand, was ecstatic and couldn’t walk fast enough towards arrivals, held back only by Maya’s reluctance.

With Mateo and Ben passed out on their respective mothers’ shoulders, and with August in tow, the five of them followed other passengers through the exit. However, Maya had another moment of panic and exclaimed, “I’ll be out in a sec.”

Frustrated with the constant stress Maya had been, Lyla left her to her own devices, eager to see her husband.

Maya stood for a moment, breathing deeply and rocking Mateo. “You’re being a fucking idiot,” she whispered to herself. “Just go. It’ll be fine.” She took another deep breath and charged through the exit before she could doubt herself again.

When Lyla saw Louis after their three months apart, she devolved into a mess of tears and ran to him, leaving August in her dust. He was greeted by a one-armed hug (though it more resembled a headlock) from his uncle who made jokes at Lyla’s expense.

“Don’t be such a dick.”

Marshall whipped his head around to the voice’s source and exclaimed, “Maya!” He pulled her into a hug, careful not to crush their sleeping son. “What the fuck’re you doin’ here?”

“Surprised?” she responded, trying to downplay the excitement and relief she felt. “It was Lyla’s idea.”

“How’d you manage to get this one on a plane?”


End file.
